


Musketeers

by Ebhenah



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Allura is doing her best, Allura reminds Lance of Rachel, Alteans have different ethics, Bisexual Lance, Blood, Body Horror, Childhood Friends, Found Family, Homesickness, Insecure Lance, Lance & Rachel are Twins, Lance is crushing on Keith, Memory Loss, Multi, Needles, Pansexual Hunk, Pidge cares more than she lets on, Secrets, Sick Hunk, Space Uncle Coran (Voltron), VLD Angst Bang 2019, alien surgery, bittersweet but hopeful ending, flashbacks to childhood adventures and misadventures, hanahaki, keith is TRYING, martyr-streak Hunk, mentions of previous encounters with biphobia/homophobia, over-protective brother Lance, parental seperation/divorce, pining lance, supportive shiro, surgery without consent, twin seperation anxiety
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-23
Updated: 2019-12-23
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:34:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 26,682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21858385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ebhenah/pseuds/Ebhenah
Summary: Hunk and Lance have been friends forever, the whole team knows this. Barely a varga passes without one or the other of them breaking into some story about their childhoods, or their time as roommates at the Garrison. References to “The Three Musketeers” are common, even though there are only two of them.When Pidge discovers poorly hidden bloody flower petals in the trash, it doesn’t take her long to confront her friend and teammate. His terror at the possibility of Lance finding out seems to explain the situation pretty well, but Hunk is refusing the surgery that could save his life AND stubbornly refusing to talk to Lance, insisting it is pointless.He knows he should have the surgery, but that would mean losing almost all of his childhood memories. Given how advanced his hanahaki is at this point, the surgery has almost no chance of saving him anyway- far better for Lance to think that Hunk succumbed to some alien parasite, since Hunk will die either way. Hunk’s put a lot of thought into this and knows what he wants.Too bad the Alteans have very different views on Hunk’s right to refuse treatment, and a strong stance on how irreplaceable any of the Paladins are.
Relationships: Allura & Coran & Hunk & Keith & Lance & Pidge | Katie Holt & Shiro, Hunk & Lance & Rachel, Hunk & Lance (Voltron), Hunk & Rachel, one-sided Hunk/Rachel
Comments: 15
Kudos: 26
Collections: VLD Angst Bang 2019





	Musketeers

**Author's Note:**

> This is my very first ever Hanahaki fic, and leave it to me to take a slightly different tact on it. I wrote for the angst bang, and despite initially thinking that it was going to be soul-crushingly angsty, it pleasantly surprised me- I think the overall feel is more melancholy and bittersweet. I think it is a story about friendship more than it is about unrequited love. 
> 
> This lovely art is courtesy of the wonderful griffinskies who is a dear friend of mine and got drafted as a pinch hitter for me because she's the sweetest. You'll find the masterpost for her amazing art here [art masterpost](https://griffonskies.tumblr.com/post/189817718606/this-is-the-art-masterpost-for-absolutely-awesome%20rel=) so please go give her some love! (she deserves it!)
> 
> YIKES!! Somehow like half my story got chomped by AO3!! It should be fixed, now! Sorry all!

When Hunk first met Lance and Rachel, they couldn’t understand each other. The McClain twins couldn’t speak any English or Samoan, and Hunk couldn’t speak Spanish or Cubano. Somehow, that was never an issue for them. From the moment Hunk spotted the two pairs of curious blue eyes peeking over the top of the fence as his family unloaded their moving van, he knew that Cuba wasn’t going to be as bad as he’d been afraid it would be. He’d hovered around his mother’s legs as she directed the movers and met the neighbors. He was a friendly kid, but so many changes, so fast had shaken his confidence.

Before too long though, one of those pairs of blue eyes dropped out of sight and the gate between their two yards was pushed open. The little girl who crossed the yard was wearing patched overalls that were folded up at the cuffs, and had knots tied in the too-long straps. Peeking out from under the overalls was a pale green t-shirt, with ruffles on the sleeve. She had brown hair that fell in two braids to her shoulders and a bright smile. She’d waved and said something he didn’t understand and when he didn’t answer, she just nodded and patted her chest, loudly announcing, “Rachel!”

Even at age four, he’d understood that. “I’m Hunk!” he answered, “I live here now!”

She nodded again and then turned around and yelled, “ **Hunk!** ” That was followed by a string of words he didn’t understand, and a few seconds later, a little boy poked his head shyly into the gap made by the fence.

Rachel waved at the little boy a couple of times, gesturing for him to come over, but he didn’t budge. So, Rachel grabbed Hunk by the hand and dragged him to the fence. “Lance,” she said, pointing at him. Lance made a face at his sister (because Hunk had sisters, he knew how to recognize them) but he stepped out from behind the fence. He was wearing a pair of blue shorts and a white t-shirt with a rocket ship on it and his legs were covered in band-aids.

“Hunk,” Rachel said again, more quietly this time, nodding in his direction. Lance grabbed her free hand and pressed close to her, whispering something Hunk couldn’t understand. She nodded and the little boy smiled hugely at him and waved.

“Hi Lance!” He’d said, knowing even then, all the way to his bones, that he’d just met his best friends. He’d never, for one instant, doubted how important Rachel and Lance would be to him… and he’d been right. His friendship with that bold, friendly little girl and her shy, sweet, twin brother had shaped his childhood and put him on the path that led him to the Garrison, and ultimately, to Voltron… which… he reflected, as he hacked up mangled, bloody flower petals and… oh… bits of stem- that was new… and probably really bad- was kind of ironic, because the cause and the cure of the stupid illness that was going to kill him was safe and sound in Cuba and he was floating in a spaceship that was also a castle on the other side of the universe.

He cleaned up his mess, taking a few minutes to let his breathing settle out again before he rinsed his mouth and splashed his face. Pidge shot him an odd look when he returned, but once he jumped back into the project they were working on, she got distracted from any concerns she might have had.

They were still working away when Lance made his way into the workshop, flinging himself dramatically into a chair. “What are you guys doing?”

“Trying to get past the security measures on the tech Keith brought back from his last Blade mission,” Pidge explained without looking up from her screen.

“The Galra seem to utilizing new… ahem… uh… hang on.” Hunk held up his hand, clearing his throat. He could feel that tickly scratching starting up deep in his chest again, but he knew that if he gave in to the urge to cough, it would set off a chain reaction. “Sorry, frog in my throat… Like I was saying- they are using new code and employing a physical tamper deterrent. We’re trying to figure out how to bypass it or disable it.”

“Like a puzzle box?” Lance asked, spinning the chair idly.

“You’re going to make yourself sick if you keep that up,” Pidge teased.

“Not hardly! Hunk! Tell her about the time I was on that fair ride!”

Hunk smiled, the memory warm and fond. That had been such a great day. His older sister’s boyfriend was working at the little travelling fair that had set up in the parking lot of the local shopping center, and kept letting Hunk and his friends onto rides for free. At the time, they’d thought it was to impress his sister, but looking back, it was more likely just a way to keep the three eight year olds occupied and out of the way while they flirted. “He went for fourteen rides in a row on the Scrambler without getting sick,” Hunk explained.

“See? A little chair spinning isn’t going to take me out! Like I was saying- it’s like a puzzle box?”

“Kinda, yeah,” Hunk nodded, scanning the surface of the fist-sized piece of tech.

“Have you tried knocking?”

“Knocking? Really Lance- **why** is that your go-to tactic?” Exasperation was leaking into Pidge’s voice.

“Not **literal** knocking,” Lance sighed, “just like… coming at it like you are supposed to have access…”

“Oh! I get what you are saying,” Hunk grinned at his friend, “the secret knock!”

Lance touched his nose with one finger, his other hand pointing at Hunk, “my man! You so get me!”

“Secret knock?” Sitting up a little straighter Pidge cocked her head at them, “is this a Musketeers thing?”

“One hundred percent a Musketeers thing,” he laughed, crossing the room to dig through the bin of Galra droid bits until he found what he was looking for.

“You guys seen Allura lately?” Lance asked, his voice a little too casual. “Like in the last varga or two? I can’t find her…”

“I think she and Shiro were going to do some training- but that was a while ago.” Pidge pushed her glasses up on her nose, turning back to her keyboard.

“Oh,” Lance deflated.

“I made a pitcher of that iced tea they both like,” Hunk offered, “if they were working out, they’d probably appreciate a cold drink. Ah-ha! I knew we had one in here!” He held up the disembodied arm of one of the robotic Galran sentries. “How much you want to bet that this guy has a chip or something that will deactivate the physical lock and get us into the low security code?”

“And from there, we can just **hack** our way to the more classified info! Brilliant! Gimme!” Pidge was literally bouncing in her seat, one arm outstretched for Hunk to pass her the tech.

Hunk and Lance shared a smile and a nod and then Lance was rising out of his chair, and popping off some finger guns before he headed for the door.

“His crush is getting really out of hand,” Pidge muttered.

“You really think so?” Hunk dug through the drawers for a power supply that wouldn’t overload the sentry arm. “I thought he had a much better handle on it lately.”

“He’s been tagging around Allura **constantly** lately. You haven’t noticed?”

“Oh. That. I thought you were talking about- meh… nevermind. That’s not about a crush. The Allura thing, I mean. That’s not what that is.” He smiled, shaking his head.

“Please… it is soooo obvious,” she rolled her eyes.

“He’s just homesick,” Hunk shook his head, “it’s been worse lately. Hey- does your laptop track the date?”

“My- uh… yeah… I guess so. Why?”

“Just a theory. What’s the date on Earth right now?”

“Um… I’m not sure how accurate it is,” Pidge said, tapping her chin, “the teleduv process and the various fluctuations in radiation exposure and unfamiliar energy fields could impact the internal clock in unpredictable ways…”

“Yeah, I know… I just want kind of a rough estimate. Humor me.” He eyed a mostly depleted energy cell appraisingly.

“Alright… so, according to this… it is the first week of August on Earth. That is the only thing we’ve found that works to power the weird space heater- find something else for the hand.”

“August… shit, that would do it.” He set the power cell aside and moved on to a different drawer. “Lance’s birthday is in July. He misses his sister… that’s why he’s tagging after Allura.”

“That doesn’t make any sense, Hunk. I miss Matt, it doesn’t make me tag after Shiro just because he’s a guy.”

“Allura is a lot like his sister, though.” Unbidden, an image of Rachel floated to the surface of his mind, as clear as if he’d only seen her the day before. He could feel the smile starting, “she’s brave, and smart. She calls him on his… idiocy, but she’s got faith in him. I don’t know if he’s realised it, but that’s what that’s all about. Lance has never been out of contact with her this long before… and the whole birthday thing… it’s a big deal for them.”

“So, he flirts with Allura because she reminds him of his sister? That’s kinda creepy, Hunk.”

“No, he flirts with Allura because he flirts with pretty much everyone… and Allura’s awesome- in her own right. She’s a lot like his sister, but she’s still her own person… and he doesn’t even really flirt with her that much anymore. It’s more joking around now.”

“Whatever- we should get back to work. Try the funky crystal things we got from Rhyner- they might work. We don’t need it to power up for all that long, right?”

Hunk could practically hear Rachel’s laugh, the memory he’d conjured was so strong. It took him a second to track what Pidge had said. “Yeah… right… the crystals…”

* * *

“Okay, so is everyone clear on the plan?” Lance whispered, his eyes darting around suspiciously.

“It’s not a complicated plan, Lance,” Rachel laughed, smiling so big that her dimple showed up. Hunk loved that- both of the twins had a dimple that only ever showed up when they smiled really, really big- seeing it meant that they were so happy they felt like they could burst. “We say we want to camp out in Hunk’s treehouse, an’then when alllllll the lights are out in **both** our houses, we get our bikes and head to the beach.”

“I’m not sure about this you guys,” Hunk chewed his lip, “how come we have to do this at the beach?”

Lance rolled his eyes, “because the ocean is the witness, Hunk! Do you wanna be our blood brother or not?”

“Hunk,” Rachel grabbed his hand and squeezed it tight, “we aren’t going in the water. We bike to the beach all the time. We’re ten now- not little kids anymore. I know you’re scared, but me an’Lance are gonna be right there. All for one, right?”

He nodded, Rachel always knew how to calm him down and make him feel brave. Lance, too. She made them both brave. “All for one, and one for all.”

“Ride or die,” Lance chimed in, smirking. “We got you. Okay- act normal. It’s almost time for the cake.” He flattened himself against the wall and inched away from them, humming dramatic spy music under his breath until he reached the doorway and ran into the kitchen, joining the chaos that was their birthday party.

Now it was Rachel’s turn to roll her eyes, “act normal. Sure Lance. That was totally normal.”

“Well… for **Lance** it was,” Hunk said, suddenly very aware that Rachel was still holding his hand tight.

“He doesn’t even know what ‘ride or die’ **means**! He just heard Marco say it to one of his friends and thought it sounded cool.” She sighed, dropping his hand to tighten her ponytail. “Let’s go get some cake. I’ll make sure you get a corner piece.” She’d turned to smile at him, and laughed, “oh Hunk… relax! We’re gonna go to space someday! That’s a way bigger adventure than the beach at night-time.”

“Right. Space. Yup. Just- Rache? Don’t forget to bring band-aids, okay?”

“I won’t. Pinky promise. An’I’m bringing **my** pocket knife- Lance keeps attacking trees with his an’ it’s all gunky!”

* * *

In theory, the mission was a success. They’d been able to rescue the people being held in what was pretty clearly some kind of forced work camp. They’d put a serious crimp in the supply of… whatever it was that this place supplied to the Empire. But Lance had gotten hurt- again- and needed to go into the pod. Hunk never really considered any mission that put one of them into a pod truly successful.

Hunk was pretty sure he’d never get used to the sight of his animated and energetic friend so still and eerie in a pod that was right out of one of Rachel’s dumb old sci fi movies. Honestly, he hoped he never did… because that would mean seeing it so much it stopped being weird and scary.

“I’m sorry, Rache,” he whispered to the empty space where she should be. “I’m trying to keep him safe. I really am. He got brave. Braver than me. Almost as brave as you.” His thumb rubbed lightly over the small scar on his forearm. It was a nervous habit he’d picked up at the Garrison. The slightly raised scar didn’t hurt him anymore. It didn’t even feel **weird** in that way of scars anymore.

It just reminded him that he wasn’t alone. It reminded him of a time when he was terrified and pushed through the fear. They’d gone to the beach the night of Lance and Rachel’s tenth birthday- all three of them- pumping their little kid legs on their bikes. Hunk had been silent. Lance had been giggling with nerves. Rachel… Rachel had taken the lead, her hair loose and flying behind her from under her unicorn bike helmet like a superhero cape. She’d been fearless, laughing into the night.

Just as she’d promised, she’d brought her own pocket knife. There had been a minor argument about **where** the cuts should be. Ultimately, Rachel’s arguments of safety, less pain, and more easily explained cuts had won out over Lance’s argument of ‘tradition’ and evidence consisting entirely of movies he’d seen. So, the small cuts had gone on their forearms and were made by Rachel. She’d been so serious, her tongue sticking out of her mouth like it did when she was doing her homework. Lance held the flashlight and she’d carefully made a short, shallow cut on each of their arms.

Hunk had been sure he was going to pass out, or throw up, or both. But Rachel had given him one of those great big smiles of hers and Lance had whispered, “all for one, Hunky,” and he’d managed to stay still.

“And, one for all,” he’d answered through the sting. They’d pressed their cuts together and Lance said some mumbo jumbo he insisted was Latin, but was definitely just gibberish.

Afterwards, when they’d been practically drunk on the adrenaline of their adventure, Rachel had handed out band-aids and Hunk rubbed his thumb over the printed plastic. Blood brothers. Three Musketeers.

They’d been safely tucked back in their sleeping bags in Hunk’s treehouse, Rachel already snoring softly when Lance had poked his shoulder. He’d rolled over to face him and Lance had started fiddling with the pull on the zipper of the sleeping bag. “So… um… I know that we’re the Three Musketeers and all… but… I’m still your favorite twin, right?”

“I don’t have a favorite twin, Lance,” he’d said, “you guys are my best friends. I don’t have a favorite parent, or a favorite sister, and I don’t have a favorite McClain.”

Lance had huffed and nodded, punching his pillow, “okay- as long as you don’t like Rachel better than me.”

“Impossible.”

Lance’s face lit up with a smile and he’d nodded, “okay. Good. Everybody else likes Rachel better.”

It had broken Hunk’s heart to hear Lance say something so awful while smiling. “Three Musketeers,” he’d repeated, with the conviction of a child who couldn’t fathom that they might ever feel differently.

“Three Musketeers,” he repeated again now, sitting on the floor of the medbay, wrapped in a blanket and rubbing his thumb over that little scar, “you gotta get home, Lance. One of us has to make it home.”

His throat closed up, silencing any further words. For a split second, he thought it might be from being upset. But then the scratchy tickle in his chest turned into sharp, searing pain. A cough rattled its way up his chest, a vicious burning sensation tracing its path. That single cough turned into three, five, ten, dozens.

The air filled with the fragrance of Moso‘oi flowers, triggering some of his earliest memories- from before he ever set foot in Cuba. There had been a huge perfume tree in their backyard and his mother had loved the smell of the blossoms, so his Dad had made sure that the vase in the kitchen was always filled with them. Rachel had gotten a bottle of perfume for her twelfth birthday. She’d never really been one for frilly, girly things, but she’d kept opening the bottle and smelling it. “Hunk,” she’d whispered, holding the bottle out to him, “I think ylang-ylang is the smell of happy. Don’t you?”

He blinked back tears, his big hands filled with crumpled, torn greenish yellow petals and smeared with flecks of blood. Keeping an eye on the pod that held Lance, he shuffled across the room and buried the mess in the trash, making sure it was covered by regular rubbish.

The scent- that lingered though. Ylang-Ylang, Moso’oi… it was supposed to represent unending love. For Hunk it meant soft curls and a deep dimple and bright blue eyes, wide with wonder or narrowed with mischief. For him it meant his mother crying, throwing the vase of her favorite flowers into the trash. It meant the last thing he could smell before they boarded the plane that would carry him and his Mom and his sisters to their fresh start in Cuba, without his Dad. It meant Lance’s homemade sunblock, that no one thought would work but did. It meant Rachel, who managed to still smell like that perfume even when she was changing the oil in the tractor, or straddling her surfboard and goading him into joining her in the water. It meant coming to terms with the reality that his time was running out.

It wasn’t supposed to go like this.

When the cough had started, he’d brushed it off as adjusting to the dry desert air after a humid Cuban summer. There was no fever, no stomach issues, no sneezing- nothing to indicate that he was actually sick.

By the time the first flower petals had ended up in his mouth, he’d almost gotten used to the constant tickle in his chest, the scratchiness in the back of his throat. But he’d seen that familiar greenish-yellow color, smelled that fragrance and he’d known what was happening. He’d gone to the infirmary, just in case, but the test results hadn’t surprised him.

Hanahaki- the heartbreak disease. The nurse had been kind, gentle. Hunk had sat in the chair while she quietly went over the diagnosis, just nodding as she made each point. Rachel Aliet McClain- it wasn’t just a crush, he was in love with her. He was in love with her and she didn’t feel the same way about him. She never would.

The nurse had squeezed his hand, explaining what he could expect. “We strongly advise that you confess to the person that triggered this infection,” she’d said, her voice calm, but firm, “I know that probably feels impossible to you right now, but there have been cases where, even if the feelings are not returned, the confession alone can halt the progress of the illness. There is a growing school of thought that it is the secrecy that fuels the growth of the plants-”

“Okay,” he’d heard himself say, “I’ll tell her. When I go home for break. I’ll tell her then.”

“Break isn’t for several weeks,” the nurse had answered.

“If I’m going to tell her, it has to be face to face. I can’t do this over the phone… I can’t risk my roommate hearing it.. It’s… complicated.”

He’d left the office with a pamphlet he’d immediately thrown out, and a bottle of pills that he’d pulled the label off of. If Lance saw them, he’d say they were for allergies or something. He only had to act like everything was normal for a few weeks. Then he’d tell Rachel- and hopefully, between the medication and the confession he wouldn’t get any worse. He could live like this. It would be… like having asthma or something. That was doable.

It should have been doable.

Instead, he had ended up here, on the other side of creation with no idea when he would ever get home to Earth. No way to contact Rachel. When that had sunk in, and the supply of pills had dwindled, he’d approached Coran and asked if there was any way to recreate the medication. Coran had taken one of the precious few tablets and run it through some kind of analysis- destroying it in the process- and then told him that there was nothing that he knew of that could duplicate the chemical composition of the medication. He’d been curious about what it was for and Hunk had trotted out the allergies lie and dismissed Coran’s worry.

That had been… ages ago. He’d long since run out of medication. He’d worked through his fear and his rage (fighting the Galra was super handy for that). He’d written letters for the team, for his family, for Rachel. He’d recorded videos on his phone for them, too. He worked until he was exhausted. He did everything he could think of to make this castle feel a little more like home for the others. He spent time communing with yellow, and he was pretty sure that the big guy would accept either Lance or Keith as his pilot once Hunk was gone. He’d made it clear that Voltron was more important than one guy. People were dying, they didn’t have the luxury of searching the universe for a replacement.

Returning to his little spot on the floor, he wrapped the blanket around him again. There was no way that he was going to let Lance come out of the pod to no one paying any attention to it a **second time**. Lance had played it off as no big deal when he’d come out of the healing pod to find everyone distracted that first time, but Hunk had been there that night when Lance had fallen apart. He knew how deeply that had cut his friend, even after Hunk had told him about how worried everyone had been, that their attention had just been pulled away for a few minutes.

Lance had smiled and hugged him and said he believed him, but Hunk knew better. It was too close to the nightmares that had plagued Lance most of his life for him to really believe it. Rachel would have been able to make him believe it. Rachel wouldn’t have gotten distracted in the first place- and she wouldn’t have let anyone else be distracted, either.

Hunk smiled to himself, it was so easy to imagine how Rachel would have sucked her teeth and snapped her fingers to pull everyone’s attention away from the countdown. So easy to picture the look on her face that would have cowed even Allura and Shiro. He could almost hear her, “play with your watches later! Mi hermano is a hero! He saved you all!”

She’d be beside Hunk right now, too, curled in her own blanket, probably leaning against him. He wished she was. He wished she’d been with them at the Garrison, with them now. It was selfish, he knew it was selfish, but he **missed her** so much. He missed her company and her laugh. He missed her quick, mechanical mind and her knack for bullying engines into working through strings of cursing that would make a sailor blush. He missed the grin and wink as she kicked or hip-checked or thumped whatever wasn’t working and the way she’d smugly say “impact calibration” when it started behaving.

“Any change?” Shiro’s voice scared the crap out of him and made him yelp. “Oh, sorry, I probably should have knocked, huh?”

Hunk chuckled, “Lance is rubbing off on people with the knocking thing… No, no change. But, like, that’s how these things work, right? Nothing really changes until the pod pops open.”

“Generally, speaking… Yeah.” Shiro sank to the floor beside Hunk with a grace he envied. It was weird, most of the time everyone kind of acted like… classmates, no one really paid attention to ages. But since he’d been getting worse it had really struck him that Shiro was older than the rest of them. Older than him. It was little things, mostly. There wasn’t actually **that** much of an age gap. Shiro was, what? Twenty-five-ish? So, like, seven years or so, since Hunk was eighteen. Technically an adult, which felt like some kind of twisted joke. He didn’t **feel** like an adult. He felt like a sick, scared kid who wanted his Mom to somehow magically make him better. Or… well… probably Rachel to make him better in this case. Still. Too young to be spending his spare time making goodbye videos and writing letters and copying out recipes for people to use after he… Oh. Shiro was talking… He shifted his focus back to the conversation. “-but, usually the damage is covered by the suit. That’s not the case this time.”

Hunk took a deep breath, held it for a second and let it out again before nodding. Lance hadn’t been wearing his helmet. He’d given it to a kid when the ceilings in the underground tunnels that served as living quarters had started to cave in. Among other injuries, he’d taken hits from several large-ish rocks that had cut up his face and scalp. The pod healed the worst injuries first, so that if the treatment was interrupted, the less serious injuries would be the ones with incomplete healing. Which meant, when it was close to time for Lance to be released, they’d be able to see the changes to his face. “Yeah, not this time.”

“You two have a really remarkable friendship,” Shiro said, patting Hunk’s back in sympathy, “you really do- I can’t imagine anyone else being closer to Lance than you are.”

“His sister,” Hunk whispered, voice cracking, “they are so close. Just… I can’t even describe it. He’s completely different with her around.”

“Different, how?” Shiro was trying to get him to talk, as a distraction… which, frankly, wasn’t a bad idea.

“He’s quieter, calmer,” Hunk said, “focuses better. We’ve been study buddies pretty much our whole lives- so I’ve seen the difference. He thinks she’s smarter than him and can explain stuff to him- like, teach him. She’s not. He’s smarter. A lot smarter. At least in terms of, like, school work, anyway. But, like, he only really believes it when she tells him he’s smart. He wasn’t going to take the entrance exam for the Garrison at first. Then she came up with the plan that we all would, together. So, we all studied. Every day. For months. He worked so hard. He always does- just acts like he’s joking around to keep from stressing himself out. Anyway, we took the exam together. Best engineering program on earth. Best piloting program, too. Hands down. I mean… it was worth relocating for that, right?”

“Obviously, you thought so at the time,” Shiro said, voice mild, “and I think it goes without saying that I am glad you guys were there…”

“Man, that was such a crazy night. This whole thing has been…” He shook his head helplessly. He couldn’t. It was easier to let Shiro think he was just worried about Lance. Overwhelmed about Voltron and everything that had happened because of it.

“I’m not going to be able to convince you to go to bed, am I?” Shiro asked with a resigned sigh. Hunk just shook his head, keeping his gaze on Lance’s face behind the glass. “Well, alright then.” The older man rose, giving Hunk’s shoulder a squeeze in silent support. He was almost out of the room, Hunk could tell by the soft sounds of his measured steps, when he paused and turned back. “Get some rest, though, okay? You’re not going to be any good to Lance when he comes out if you’re sick.”

Hunk almost laughed, the irony was just too much. But he was honestly afraid that if he did, he’d start to cry, or worse… start coughing again. Instead he forced a smile and turned to face Shiro, “one nap. You’ve got it.”

Shiro tapped the wall lightly as he exited the room, Hunk knew the sound by heart. He didn’t think Shiro even noticed he did it, but Hunk had- it was a tell. He only did it when he was worried. Hunk had gotten good at spotting when the others were worried. At least this time he could let them assume he was off because Lance had gotten hurt.

Fighting the urge to cough, he set up an alarm on his phone. Lance was going to be in that pod for ages. Hunk could afford a little nap. Like, an hour and a half. Yawning, he curled up on his side and pulled the blanket around him again. He really was tired. He had more energy when he was in Yellow, or even just in his armor. The tech… it sensed his o2 levels and increased the oxygen in the air. The Castle of Lions didn’t do that, and he was really starting to notice the difference. He got tired faster, found it harder to focus sometimes.

Another bad sign.

He’d just… have to find more reasons to be working in his Paladin suit between missions. There had to be maintenance he could do in areas without atmosphere, or where there was a risk of toxic gasses… he’d come up with something.

The floor was hard, but it didn’t bother Hunk all that much- he’d always liked a firm mattress and it was no harder than the floor of the treehouse that had been practically a summer residence for the three of them from the time his Dad had built it when he was seven until he’d ended up here. He kept his breathing slow and shallow as that disconcerting feeling of things **shifting** in his lungs settled. He was learning all kinds of nifty tricks to avoid choking and coughing. The castle was big, but it seemed like there was always **someone** within earshot, so better safe than sorry.

He could feel sleep start to over take him, and he tried to think happy thoughts, to focus on good memories… but Shiro’s words just refused to stop rattling around in his brain.

_’You’re not going to be any good to Lance when he comes out if you’re sick.’_

* * *

“Awww, they look so comfy!”

“Should we… poke them?”

“Holy crow, Keith- they’re sleeping! We don’t need to make sure they’re not **dead**!”

“Well, I don’t know the appropriate response to finding people asleep on the floor, Pidge! It’s not a situation I’ve encountered before! Have you?”

“Uhhh.. I have actually- Matt threw a party one time and uh… yeah… let’s just pretend I didn’t mention that… Lemme just get some picturrrrrreeessss…”

“Shh… estoy durmiendo vet... Hunnnnk, fai i latou eo ese!!”

“That was… not all spanish…”

Blearily, Hunk pried his eyes open and squinted until everything came into focus. Pidge and Keith were standing over him and Lance was trying to burrow into his chest, the blanket pulled over his head. “Samoan,” he said around a yawn, “the bit after my name anyway.”

“Huuuunnnk,” whimpered Lance again.

Unable to resist the urge to smile, he shifted his weight, resting his large hand over Lance’s ear, “he wants you to go away so he can sleep.”

“On the floor?” Pidge looked skeptical.

“As long as he’s warm enough, Lance can sleep anywhere,” Hunk yawned again, “I guess I slept through my alarm… and the pod opening.”

“You must have been pretty wiped out,” pointed out Keith, “need a hand up?”

Shaking his head, he tugged a lock of Lance’s hair gently, telling him it was time to get up in the weird patchwork language they’d created as kids. Twin speak was a thing. Most twins forgot their private language as they grew up. But when Hunk had met Rachel and Lance, they’d still used it a lot- and since at age four Hunk couldn’t tell what was twin speak and what was Spanish, he’d picked up some of it, along with bits of Spanish and Cubano. They’d learned some Samoan and English from him and for years, it was easier for them to shift through the various languages than it was to stick to one or two. By the time they realised that no one else could make sense of what they were saying they were old enough to think that a ‘secret code’ was too cool to give up. It was rare for him and Lance to use it without Rachel around, but so many mornings in the treehouse had made it second nature for waking Lance.

Yawning, Lance blinked up at him. Hunk chuckled, because he could watch awareness of the situation bloom in those blue eyes. Confusion gave way to a flicker of sadness, which was quickly washed away in a wave of embarrassment when he registered that the voices that had disturbed him were Pidge and Keith. He’s cheeks flushed and he sat up, rolling away from Hunk in the process. “What’s up?”

“Figured the pod would be opening soon,” Pidge said, grinning so big it looked like it might actually hurt her face, “came to check on your and found you guys all curled up like puppies. Sooo cute!”

“Puppies?” Keith countered, “I was thinking kittens… or… what are those things that live in the water and link arms to sleep?”

“Otters,” Lance muttered, blush intensifying, “you’re thinking of otters. When did you get back here, anyway?”

“Like, a varga ago.” Keith replied, “heard things went sideways on you guys yesterday.”

Hunk hid a smile behind a fake yawn. Keith must have pretty much beelined to the medbay after getting updated if he only arrived a varga ago. Too bad Lance was too caught up in his embarrassment to make that connection.

“It was nothing,” mumbling, Lance stretched, several pops and cracks emanating from his back. “Got everyone out safe. That’s what matters.”

“But you-”

“We’ve got healing pods. I’m fine. Good as new. Just always so cold when I’m done in there. I’m from Cuba, I’m not built for cold!”

“Hunk **did** look pretty toasty all wrapped up in that blanket,” mused Pidge.

“That’s me,” he had to steer the conversation away from Lance before the poor guy actually ignited from the mortification that he was valiantly trying to hide under snarkiness, “walking, talking space heater. Always happy to warm up a teamma-” The cough came out of nowhere. Sudden, sharp pain burst in his chest and for an instant he thought this might be it. A second harsh, barking cough followed the first; a third right on its heels. He could feel petals catching in his throat but kept his mouth clamped shut, coughing through a locked jaw in an attempt to prevent them from coming up and betraying his illness. Sucking air in through his nose felt like inhaling sea water- cold and fast and scorchingly wrong. His body sat up without any direction from him, his obstructed lungs heavy enough from the growing plants that he felt them move within his ribcage with the shift. The coughs continued with renewed vigor and he felt like he was done for. Every cough felt like a burst of actual fire ripping through him and the ragged gulps of air he managed every so often felt like acid.

 **This is it…** he thought, sparks dancing in his vision. **This is how I die. Sitting on the floor of an alien medbay right in front of Lance and Pidge and Keith.** Somehow, it had never occurred to him before that there might be **witnesses** to him succumbing to the hanahaki. He’d kind of figured that he’d go in his sleep and they’d find him in his bed when he didn’t show up for breakfast. The look of horror on Lance’s face jarred something in him, making him suck down more of that salt-water-feeling-air; and, when Keith slapped his back softly, he felt something dislodge. The sharp, scratching, tickle in his chest eased and the coughs petered out.

“Quiznack,” Pidge breathed, crouching in front of him to push his hair back from his face. “No more sleeping on the floor for you!”

“Are you okay?” Lance sounded ten years younger, his eyes huge and filled with fear.

“Yeah,” he gasped, nodding and wiping at his eyes with the heel of his hand. “Yeah… m’fine… just… breathed wrong…”

“You **breathed** wrong?” Keith echoed in disbelief, “what? Were there **bones** in that lungful of air?”

So many responses raced through his mind, each with their own set of problems until… “See? Told’ja galra Keith makes jokes,” he wheezed, grinning at Lance.

“Oh my God, Hunk,” muttered Keith, “how many times…”

He let the playful back and forth of the others distract them all from his coughing fit, slowly and carefully rising from the floor. Lance snagged the blanket, wrapping himself up in it to stave off the worst of his lingering chills. Hunk didn’t have the heart to tell him that a chunk of his hair was sticking straight up. It was oddly cute. Endearing.

Shiro and Allura wanted to see Lance, so Hunk begged off to go grab a shower and make some breakfast for everyone. The steam always helped- as did being able to cough up anything that needed to be dislodged in the privacy of the bathroom in his quarters.

He was in one of the workrooms, using holotech to test out some ideas he had for shuttle upgrades (that **wouldn’t** explode like Pidge’s had) when Coran found him.

“Greetings Number Two! I was hoping I might have a word with you,” Coran said jovially, leaning against the work table.

“Sure thing Coran,” he answered pleasantly, “what’s up?

“The others mentioned that you have a cough?”

He froze. He hated lying- always had. At this point it was starting to feel like most of the things he said to Coran weren’t true. “They did? Yeah… no more sleeping on the floor for me.”

“Does this have to do with that azz-mah affliction that you mentioned to me before?” He leaned in close, scrutinizing Hunk dramatically.

“Asthma? Oh. Yup. Mmhmm… Yes. That’s… exactly what the issue is. My… asthma.” Nodding for emphasis, he turned away, focusing on the calculations on his datapad.

“I was reviewing the analysis from those tablets you were hoping to replicate… it’s very strange. They don’t seem like something that would ease respiratory distress. The chemical composition is closer to compounds used in agriculture… well, regardless- I cannot recreate that medication, but I do have something that might be of assistance!” He held out something that looked a lot like an inhaler. “This contains an anti inflammatory and a bronchodilator as well as oxygen. It should help to alleviate some of those pesky symptoms.”

“Oh, wow!” This was… amazing. A puffer! Even better- a built in excuse for the coughing. ‘Sorry guys, turns out I have a touch of asthma- canned air, amiright?’ Perfect. Better than perfect! He wanted to **hug** Coran. “This is going to help so much! Thanks… seriously! Thank you so much!”

Coran beamed, inordinately pleased with himself, “you are very welcome, Number Two. Very welcome, indeed! Now… I should let you return to… your project! I hope you find it helps!” He rose again and headed for the door, pausing at the last possible moment, “the others… they were most concerned. You may want to assure them all is well with you.”

“Yeah… I will. I don’t want them to worry about me.”

* * *

“Hunnnnnnnk… let us in!” Rachel’s voice was strong, even through the door, “we’re worried about you!”

“Yeah, Hunk,” Lance echoed, “you don’t have to come out… Ow! I mean… you don’t have to leave the… uh... Just let us in!”

He’d reluctantly opened the door and the twins had fallen into the treehouse- both of them had been sitting so that they leaned on the door, just like he had. Rachel saw his face and cooed soothingly, Lance tripped all over himself to hug Hunk without saying a word.

“I can’t go back,” Hunk insisted through tears.

“Yes, you can,” Rachel replied, joining in on the hug, “because we’re gonna be right there with you.”

“You don’t **understand** ,” he insisted, shrinking back.

“Three Musketeers,” Lance whispered, “all for one and one for all.”

“You’re not alone, Hunk,” she smiled at him, “let the jerks be jerks- you are better than them.”

“Yeah, you are **way** too good for Brian! What’s he got going for him anyway? A cute smile?”

“He doesn’t even have a good butt.”

“Rachel!”

“What? It’s true! It’s soooo flat! When he stands up his butt just… vanishes. Hunk deserves someone with a cute butt.”

He couldn’t resist the little snort of laughter that bubbled up in response to that… or the actual chuckle when Lance replied, “yeah, okay… valid point. Vanishing butts are unacceptable.”

“See, Hunk? You dodged a bullet. You could have ended up with a boyfriend that lacked a butt!”

“I guess you’re right,” he conceded, sniffling through a smile.

“You wanna talk about it?” Lance asked, finally releasing the hug. “Not Brian- Brian is a dillweed. The other thing…”

“The whole ‘I like boys sometimes’ thing?” Hunk sighed, “not really… it is what it is.”

“Sometimes, but not always?” Rachel’s voice was soft, patient.

“Yeah, not always. Sometimes it’s girls, sometimes boys… gender doesn’t really factor in.”

“Soooo… bi like me?” Lance whispered, and the treehouse went quiet. They were thirteen… or at least, he was thirteen, the twins were still a couple of months shy of their birthday, and it had been a rough year for all of them as the idea of romantic relationships had stopped seeming silly and gross and started to be something they wanted. Lance had struggled a lot, which meant he talked a lot. The shy, quiet kid was coming out of his shell, although he wasn’t quite as comfortable thinking out loud around anyone other than his family and Hunk. When it was just the three of them, he talked almost as much as Rachel did, the two of them tripping over each other and finishing one another’s sentences.

So, a good chunk of the year had been occupied with Lance’s theories on gender and sexuality and romantic attraction, supplemented by frequent, thorough internet research. He’d cycled through several different labels, finally settling on one that so far was a secret to anyone other than the Three Musketeers. It had been a hell of a year, but the three of them had been there for each other… and Lance’s ponderings had helped Hunk figure himself out. This was the first time Lance had referred to himself as bi. It shouldn’t surprise him that it was as a way to make Hunk feel less alone.

Hunk shook his head, “bi doesn’t feel right… pan does.”

“Pan. Got it,” Lance smiled at him. “Brian was way outta line, Hunk. The stuff he said…”

“Yeah, I know…”

“I can beat him up,” offered Rachel, “break his pretty nose.”

“That won’t help,” he let out a big sigh, “I liked him so much… and he almost kissed me that one time and I thought… but then today…”

“Just because he’s gay doesn’t mean he isn’t a bigot,” Rachel said, blue eyes flashing angrily.

“And it doesn’t mean that the shit he said was okay, or right,” Lance added, “or that it was okay to out you like that. He’s an asshole.”

“I can’t go back to that school… everyone is gonna stare and whisper.”

“If I beat him up,” she pointed out, “then everyone will whisper and stare at me, not you.”

“Rachel, if you get in one more fight you aren’t gonna be allowed to take the Garrison exam,” Lance sighed, shaking his head, “but I can… if you want.”

“Nobody is beating up anyone!” Hunk pushed his hands through his hair, “I mean it. No fighting, you guys! Promise.”

“I promise,” Lance sounded defeated. “C’mon Rache, you too.”

“Nuh-uh,” she shook her head, “he hurt Hunk, so he’s gotta hurt.”

“Rachel, that’s not how this works,” Hunked sighed, “but… I love that you have my back.”

“Course I do! But I’m so mad! You didn’t do anything wrong and you’re the one that doesn’t want to go back to that stupid school because he was a jerk and I just wanna….” her hands clenched into fists and she punched the wall, “owww!”

“Stop punchin’ wood! Geez!” Lance rolled his eyes, taking her hand into his gently and blowing on her scrapes. “Mami’s gonna lose it if you bust up your knuckles again. Oooh! Hunk! If you are siiiiiick, you get to stay home!”

“What?” Hunk blinked at him, sure he had misheard.

“If you are sick, you don’t have to go to school,” Lance repeated, eyes dancing triumphantly.

“He’s… actually right.”

“Guys- my Mom’s a nurse… I can’t fake sick!”

“Yeah… okay… good point.” Lance thought for a moment then grabbed his hand, “I know! Come with me!”

Too surprised to protest, and feeling a little less like the world was going to end, Hunk let himself get tugged out onto the little deck that led to the ladder his father had built into the tree. “Lance?”

“You trust me right?” Lance’s hand was warm and strong in his own, holding him tight.

“Course I do…”

“Cool! Sooo… just… close your eyes… and pretend we are out on the pier… and-”

Two things happened at once.

Lance screamed ‘jump!’ just as Rachel grabbed the back of Hunk’s shirt and yanked.

His grip on Lance’s hand slipped, and before he could even register what happened, shrill screams rang out from the ground below.

Hunk missed the next four days of school because he was so distraught over Lance breaking his foot. When they returned together the following week, their classmates tripped all over themselves, so excited to get to sign Lance’s cast that no one spared him a second glance. His friend grinned triumphantly at him in the cafeteria, stitches in his chin and one blue eye still obscured by the colorful swelling of a recovering ‘shiner’. Rachel alternated between glaring at her twin and doting on him- calling him her ‘brave idiot’ with more affection than ire.

He doubted the other Paladins would believe it sometimes, but Lance’s plans had improved greatly over the years.

* * *

In videos games, so-called ‘escort missions’ were common and often treated like boring filler. In reality, Hunk had discovered, they were a weird blend of terror and boredom. It was like watching a suspense film that had bad pacing. Hunk was never one to get lulled into a false sense of complacency, so the longer things went well, the stronger his sense that **any second** something would go wrong. It was like waiting for a jumpscare that should have happened long ago.

He hated it.

They were supervising and protecting a convoy of refugees as a favor for the Blades. The Galra had stripped their planet of of so many resources, it could no longer sustain the population. The Blade had people helping the huge transports get loaded and launched, and Voltron was protecting them en route to another system where a new home had been terraformed for them. The others were chatting amiably on the comms, alert but in good spirits, but he was having a hard time participating.

A red light blinked, slow and steady- incoming private comm connection from Red Lion. Smiling, he switched the main channel to passive, and accepted Lance’s call.

“Hey bud!” Lance popped up on a holoscreen, all smiles, “so, I was thinking. You remember those pizza rolls you made on Arus? Those were really tasty! Do you still have the ingredients you’d need to make them?”

He ran through his mental list of pantry supplies, “Uhhh… they wouldn’t be exactly the same, but I could whip up something close. Why?”

“No reason really… just… been mostly goo lately and I know that cooking helps with your stress, but it’s like… the first of your self-care things to go when your anxiety starts to act up… sooo…”

“So, you’re doing for me what I do for you when your ‘fearless’ act veers into ‘reckless’ territory?” He smiled, shaking his head, “thanks… you’re right. I’ve been hiding in the workshop and not cooking as much and it’s starting to show.”

“Yeah, well… we promised to watch out for each other, right? I don’t wanna break a promise to Rache- she’d… she’d… hurt me… or well, maybe not **hurt** me… more like… make me **suffer**! Oh God, Hunk! She’d steal all my best skin care stuff!”

He laughed, “or make sure she dismantled the engines of all the good cars whenever you had a big date.”

Lance gasped, horror clear on his face, “oh God, she **would!** That’s exactly what she’d do! You two think too much alike!”

“I think like Rachel? Me?? Oh nooo… I just know how to predict how she’d mess with you. Front row seat to that for like, fourteen years, man.” His throat tickled and he eyed the puffer in its little drawer, debating whether to use it. Probably best to wait until he was off the line with Lance. “So… any particular reason you wanted me to make pizza rolls instead of just poking me to cook, in general?”

“Uhhhh…” Lance blushed, eyes dropping.

“Keith,” chuckled Hunk, “gotcha.”

“I didn’t say that!”

“You didn’t **have** to!”

“Hey!”

“Oh, shove it. We both know I know, so stop pretending like it is a secret! Sooo… why pizza rolls for Keith?”

Lance glared at him, but after all this time, Hunk was pretty much immune. After a moment, the glare faltered, Lance’s expression melting into a shy softness Hunk didn’t often see anymore. “It’s just… he was like ‘green goo, purple goo, and meal bars… I miss fast food!’ and I was thinking… pizza is fast food…”

“And I made pizza rolls that time. Gotcha… Hey, Lance?”

“Yeah?”

“I won’t tell him it was your idea…”

“I know you won’t. You’ve always got my back!”

“No… Lance, I was about to say that **you** should.”

“What?!? Ohhh no! Nuh-uh. Nope! Forget it! Not gonna happen! Why would I even **do** that? That’s… just… no.”

“I think he’d appreciate knowing you were-”

“Hunk! No! Just… make the pizza rolls, okay?”

“Of course I’m going to make the pizza rolls, Lance… it’s just.. The team cares about you… you should… you know… relax around them a bit more. You don’t have to always be… ‘on’... it’s okay.”

“Dunno what you are talking about. I’m always on… fire! And my jokes are on… point!” Grinning, he flashed finger guns and winked, “ah? Ahhh?”

“Sure, bud,” he laughed, letting the subject drop. Again. “You’re on fire and your jokes are on point.”

“Annnnnd that’s why I’m your favorite McClain!”

“I don’t have a favorite McClain, Lance,” he promised. It was true. He might be in love with Rachel, but that didn’t make her his **favorite**. They were different people and Hunk loved them both- in different ways, but just as much. Not that Lance would ever see it that way if he knew. Which was why he could never, ever know.

“You know I’m gonna get you to admit I’m your favorite eventually,” Lance insisted, winking at him with a giggle.

“Not happening,” he argued, “so… pizza rolls. Any other suggestions?”

“Something sweet… but not chocolate-y.” The shy smile was back. Damn, Lance had it bad. He hadn’t seen him like this in awhile.

“Like cookies? Cupcakes? A mousse?”

“Not a mousse… that’s just bubbly goo!”

“Excuse me **what**? You did **not** just really say that! I must be hallucinating! ‘Bubbly goo’?? Really?!?!”

“Dude- I’m not wrong. The goo is like… pudding. Mousse is like pudding and whipped cream merged into one thing. Goo plus bubbles.”

“I… cannot believe what I’m hearing!” He shook his head, tsking his friend affectionately. “Fine. No mousse. Other ideas?”

“Ummm… blondies? Do you have the stuff for blondies?”

He thought for a minute, “I can probably do that. My test batch of butter beer blondies turned out pretty well, right?”

“Hell yeah! Those were awesome!” Lance’s face lit up, “he’ll… I mean… everyone will love that!”

“Mmhmm. We should get back to the main comm channel before everyone thinks we’re planning a mutiny.”

“Pfff… like we could mutiny! Allura would turn us both into pretzels if we even **thought** about it.”

“Yeah, don’t cross Allura, for sure!”

“Hey Hunk? Thanks. About the food, I mean. I want you to take care of yourself… but… I dunno… I…”

“Like it when Keith smiles. I know.”

Cheeks blazing, Lance waggled a finger at him, “listen- you want the Shay teasing to start up again? Because I can sooo resurrect the Shay teasing!”

“Truce! Truce!” They were both laughing when they rejoined the others.

“What was that about?” Pidge asked.

“Musketeers stuff,” Hunk and Lance answered in unison.

“I don’t know why you even bothered to ask,” grumbled Keith, “even **I** knew that was going to be the answer!”

* * *

Pidge stretched, a couple of pops and snaps from her back making her sigh, “alright. Time to go see Keith off. We can get back to this in a bit.”

“Already?” Hunk set aside his soldering iron, shutting the power off, “really? Wow… okay…”

“Yeah? I mean… I get the whole ‘time flies’ thing but, it’s not like the schedule is a surprise.”

“No… no you’re right I just…” expected Lance to be in here ages ago to distract himself from the departure… “I dunno… I just got into the groove and lost track of time, I guess.”

“Well, now you know,” she made a little whistling sound, jerking her thumb in the direction of the door. “I’m gonna dart. I’ll tell him to hang tight until you get there, but don’t take long. Deal?”

“Sure, that works. I just need to make a couple of notes so I don’t forget where I was going with this and then I’m right behind you!” Grabbing up his datapad, he started inputting his thoughts and the next few steps he’d been intending to take so when they returned he didn’t waste any time. It really was strange that he hadn’t seen Lance, though. He’d have to check on him later. 

He was just about done when he felt the tickle in his throat. Before he could dig his puffer out of his pocket, the coughing started. It was the longest, strongest bout yet and dread crept up his spine. The petals and bits of stem seemed endless- filling his mouth with each cough. Sometimes they even spilled out and practically floated in the air before scattering over the worktable and the floor. He couldn’t believe that so many of them could fit in his chest.

It felt like it lasted forever, but eventually it passed. He took a couple of hits from his puffer, hoping it would soothe some of the rawness and give him a little energy boost- because that shit was exhausting. Shaking, he cleaned up his mess, tossing some random trash on top of the disturbingly large pile of petals and stems to hide them, and then finally headed out to say goodbye to Keith… and then spend some time with Lance.

* * *

“They said,” Lance whispered, picking at his brand new superhero sneakers, “I’m broken… in my head. Cuz I love Rachel too much.”

“Who said?” Hunk stopped building his lego house and turned to look at his friend properly. It was just the two of them, and Lance was always kind of scared and sad when he had to be away from his twin, but he did better when Hunk was there. So, pretty much any time Rachel had appointments or sleepovers or whatever, Lance came over to Hunk’s house to play. “I’m telling my mom people were being mean!”

“The doctors…” He tipped his face up to Hunk’s, fresh tears threatening to spill over his cheeks. “They tolded mami and papi my brain is wrong.”

“You have a good brain!” What kind of doctors would say such mean things about his friend? Bad ones, that’s what kind! “You think up the best jokes and you have the bestest stories and you always remember where I left my shoes!”

“Is’a special kinda broken,” he sniffled, “only twins get it. Just me. Not Rachel. Her brain is good. Doctors said she was normal and… um… umm… I’m not. I heard them, Hunk. I amembered the words. They said… they said… they said I... I have twin sepe-mation zye-bees. Means I love Rachel too much cuz I’m broken.”

“You are not!” Hunk yelled, outraged, “stop it! Stop bein’mean to you!”

“M’not being mean! **They** said! Not me!” Face scrunched up like that time Rachel ate the last piece of cake, Lance climbed to his feet, shrieking at Hunk. “They said! They did!”

“No! No, stop!” He hated hearing such mean things about Lance. He wanted to… hit something. Instead, he kicked his Legos and jumped up to face Lance. “They’re mean and wrong! Stop b’leebing them!”

“Now, now, what’s all this ruckus?” His mother swept into the room, crouching down to talk to them. “Oh, my goodness! Lance! What’s wrong, little one?”

Lance squeaked, eyes wide, and he darted away to hide behind Hunk. He didn’t like grown-ups very much, especially when he couldn’t whisper to Rachel.

“People are saying mean things about Lance!” Hunk yelled, outraged on his friend’s behalf. “You needa tell them to stop, Mom! They made him **cry!** ”

“What did they say?” she asked, not even getting mad at him for yelling at her. 

“They said he… umm… Lance? What was that words again? Twin sumfin?” He turned, and Lance whispered it to him. “Twin. Sepe-mation. Zye-bees. They said he has bees in his brain that make him love Rachel too much! You needa make’em stop! He’s crying!”

His mom sighed and pulled out her phone, “hang on sweetie, let me check with Lance’s parents, okay?”

“Yeah! You tell’em that those doctors are mean! They were mean to Lance!” While his mom dealt with that, Hunk turned and pulled Lance into a tight hug, “don’t cry, Lance. You got a good brain. The best brain!” 

“I gotta take med’cin,” Lance hiccuped, “every day!”

“No!” Every day!?!? Medicine was gross! “That’s so mean!”

“Okay,” his mother said, “Lance’s parents are going to talk to him more when he goes home, but for now, they said I could explain a little bit.”

“See?” he whispered to Lance, “Mom is gonna fix it.”

“Lance, sweetie, can you come here so I can-” She must have seen the way Lance hid his face, shaking his head against Hunk’s chest and how he made those little squeaky noises that meant he was really upset. “Alright, you can stay there, little one. There are no bees, I promise.”

“But… they **said**...”

“No Hunk, it’s not ‘zye-bees’ it is ‘anxiety’,” she explained, “Lance heard them wrong. Anxiety is… being worried or scared, or extra shy, or sad. Lance doesn’t love Rachel too much. Did you hear that, Lance? You don’t love her too much. No one thinks loving her is bad. Just… Lance has something called Twin Separation Anxiety. That’s why starting school has been so hard. It is just fancy words that mean that it is hard for him to relax or be happy when he is away from his twin. She makes him feel safer and when she’s not there he gets scared… and the medicine is to help him feel not as scared.”

“M’not broken?” Lance whimpered into Hunk’s chest.

“No sweetie, you are not broken. You just have a very big heart and you need a little bit of help to learn that you and Rachel are safe and strong even when you can’t see each other.”

“I’ll keep you safe, Lance,” Hunk promised. “You’re safe with me.”

“I know… being alone is just a little scary with you… not a big scary!”

* * *

Unsurprisingly, Hunk found Lance by the pool. Lance had a few different spots he went to when he was upset, and Hunk had noticed a bit of a pattern. Whenever Keith left to go back to the Blades, Lance ended up at the pool. When he and Shiro butted heads, Hunk found him in the kitchen digging for snacks. Pidge crossing a line or snapping at him meant stargazing on the Bridge. Allura stuff… well, that tended to have him hightailing to his bedroom and locking the door. Everything else meant hanging out with his Lion.

“Hey,” he said, sitting down beside his friend. Lance was stretched out on the deck of the pool, flicking his fingers on the surface of the water. “Good-byes suck, huh?”

He didn’t even look up from the surface of the water, just shrugged silently. Okay. Hunk could work with that. “We’re overdue for a spa day,” he said instead, “I can use some of the stuff in the kitchen to make a honey scrub. Might even have the stuff for a hair mask, too.”

“Can I trim your split ends?” Lance asked, “you are starting to frizz…”

“Harsh!” he gasped playfully, smacking the back of Lance’s leg. “But sure… you can trim my hair.” He’d expected a laugh, or maybe some excited babble about ‘make-overs’, but all that happened was that Lance flashed a weak smile and rolled up to sitting, hugging his knees. 

“Hey, Hunk?” He took a shaky breath, “can you… take off your gloves? Just for a minute?”

“My gloves?” He glanced down at his hands, encased in the fingerless gloves he barely even noticed anymore. “Yeah, sure…”

Once he shed the worn leather, Lance grabbed his hands, tracing over the thin scars that criss-crossed his skin with damp fingertips. “Coran showed me the files from the medpod… the last time I got hurt,” Lance said after a moment. “He was talking about how the cryo tech protects us from scarring. That’s why I don’t have burns from the explosion. But I do have scars. I just didn’t know. They’re hidden… in my hair. I got’em on Mer. Jellyfish scars… like you and Rache.”

“From when you had the jellyfish on your head like a hat?” Hunk tried not to think about the scars on his hands very much. It wasn’t a happy memory for him.

“You saved her life you know,” Lance whispered.

“I didn’t. You know I didn’t. I screwed up that whole thing. I did everything wrong. No vinegar, no soaking her legs in seawater, no waiting ten minutes. I panicked and just started ripping them off of her, and we both ended up stung bad enough that it scarred.”

“We were what? Eleven?” Lance countered, “she got all tangled up in those damn jellyfish and I froze. You got her out of the water. You got her untangled. I… just stood there.” He sighed, squeezing Hunk’s hand. “She could have drowned and I would have just…”

“Lance? Where is all this coming from? Is this about Keith?”

“It’s not about Keith,” he snapped, “not **everything** is about my damn hormones! It’s just… I don’t know. I shouldn’t be here. I try to be… brave, strong… a hero… but… everything is just…”

“You are a hero, Lance.” He fell back into their patchwork language, as he often did when it was just them. “You saved everyone on Mer. You saved Coran. You gave your helmet to a kid. That’s heroic stuff. You can’t leave people in danger. You just can’t. It’s who you are.”

“But.. Rachel…”

“You were a kid, and Rache is fine. She’s fine. You know she’s fine- she’s like, indestructible!”

“She’d be so much better at this than me…”

“Well, now I’m stuck, bud,” he griped, “because either I agree with you and say she’d be better, or I have to argue that she wouldn’t be as good as you… and that feels like picking a favorite McClain… and as we both know, I **don’t have** a favorite McClain. So… I guess all I can do is say that she’d be a kick ass Paladin- just like you… and Shiro would lose his damn mind. Can you imagine? They think the Musketeers thing is bad now?” He rolled his eyes, “yikes! Pidge would be… just picture it.”

“Oh my God, she’d drive Pidge nuts.” Lance actually laughed, “she’s so bossy!”

“You are a kick ass Paladin, Lance. That’s why Blue responded to you. It’s why Red chose you. You act like you don’t belong here, but you do. Maybe more than any of us.” He scooted over so that he was shoulder to shoulder with his friend. “But, you know… it’s okay to doubt yourself sometimes.”

“I just… I miss her.”

“Yeah… me too. Being at the Garrison was weird… this is harder.”

“Still mad at her for that,” he grumbled, “she should have been there.”

“Her score was her score,” he said carefully.

Lance lifted his head, meeting his eyes, “her score was bullshit. I know, Hunk.”

“Mmm?” He sucked at lying. He really sucked at lying to Lance. So, he hedged.

“I know she tanked the test on purpose. There’s no way she scored lower than me. She aced every practice test we took.”

“That’s… ridiculous! Why? Why would she… pfff… that’s crazy talk!”

One eyebrow slowly rose. Lance wasn’t buying that. Not for a single tick. “Because of my stupid broken brain-”

“ **Not** broken! Stop being mean to you!” He sighed, “she just wanted you to come into your own, Lance. Space was your dream. Flying was **your** dream.”

“She doesn’t hold me back, she makes me better,” Lance argued, “I just wish she’d talked to me. I wish I’d told her I knew.”

“You’ll tell her when you get back, buddy. It’ll be okay. You’ll always have each other. No matter what.”

“I guess.” He released Hunk’s hands to hug his knees again, fiddling with the denim of his jeans. “All for one, right?”

“One for all,” Hunk responded automatically. “Well, I can tell you one thing for sure- Keith would at least meet her standard for non-vanishing butts.”

Lance blinked at him for a solid minute before snorting and rolling his eyes. “Right!?!?” He dissolved into giggles, “quiznak, she’d torture me! I can practically **hear** her giving me such a hard time!”

“And talking you up? Keith wouldn’t have a clue what was going on!” He joined in with Lance’s giggles, “he’d be so confused!”

“His face,” cackled Lance, falling against Hunk’s shaking chest and being enveloped in his arms, safe and strong. “Fucking hell, Hunk- just picture the look on his face!”

He stayed with Lance for a while, making sure that he was coping better and in an improving mood before excusing himself to head back to the workshop. He still had a project that needed his attention and Pidge was bound to be wondering where he went. 

Lance had been spinning flights of fancy. Making up stories about how his twin would have reacted to the people and situations they’d encountered in space. Hunk was still chuckling over the imagined confrontations between devil-may-care Rachel and patience-yields-focus Shiro that Lance had dreamed up when he arrived at the workshop.

That good mood popped like a balloon as the door slid open to reveal Pidge. She looked stricken! There were tears in her eyes and when she spoke, her voice was raw. “How long were you planning on keeping this a fucking secret, Hunk?” 

Petals fell between the fingers of her work gloves as she thrust her hands in his direction.

So many bloody, broken petals.

Busted.

* * *

“You’re getting a **treehouse**??” Rachel nearly shook with excitement. “For real? How big? Is it gonna have a trap door? A rope ladder? A… ummm… Lance! What’s that thing you hang from an’it zooms??”

“A zipline?” 

“Yeah! Yeah, that! Are you?”

Hunk shrugged, not nearly as excited as his friend was, “I dunno. Mom just said ‘treehouse’, that’s all I know.”

Rachel stopped, finally realizing that her reaction to the news was very different than his. “I don’t get why you are so sad,” she said, concerned. “A treehouse is exciting… and you love when your Dad visits…”

Lance crowded closer, rubbing his back. He’d picked up on his mood faster than Rachel had, but he was just as confused, in his quiet way, as she was. “Hey, Hunk? Remember that movie we all watched the other day? Three Musketeers, that’s us! All for one and one for all, right?”

“Yeah, Lance is right! We’re a team. If you’re sad, we’re sad!” She plunked herself down on the ground on his opposite side and leaned in close so he was squished between them. After a few minutes she settled her head on his shoulder and sighed. “So… umm… _why_ are we sad?”

“Rachel!” Hunk felt Lance smack her against his back, “stop it.”

“What? How are we s’posda help if we don’t know what’s wrong?”

“He’s gonna tell us when he’s ready! Ugh! So bossy!”

“Am not! I just asked a question, Lance. S’not **bossy** t’ask a _question!_ ”

“Is so- you’re trying to make him talk before he’s ready! That’s bossy!”

“So not! You’re just sexist!”

“You don’t even know what that **means**! You just heard Nonica yell it at Marco!”

“It means you’re a _dumb boy_! I asked her!”

“I’m not dumb!” Lance flinched back, pulling away from Hunk and wrapping his arms around his knees. His head tucked down, but not too far to keep him from glaring at Rachel. “I’m not! I’m not **dumb**!”

**"Stop fighting!”** Hunk yelled, shaking as he stood up. “I hate fighting! I hate it! I hate it!”

Chagrined, Rachel’s eyes flicked back and forth between the boys. “That… that was mean. I’m sorry, Lance. I know you’re not dumb. Sorry for fighting, Hunk.”

“My Dad is moving back in,” he said miserably.

“But… isn’t that a _good_ thing?” Lance asked, the conflict with Rachel apparently forgotten, “you love when your Dad visits, right?”

“Did he do something mean?” Rachel asked, fire sparking in her eyes, “do I hafta punch him?”

“Don’t punch my Dad!” How could he explain this to the twins? Their parents were… well _they_ called their parents ‘gross’ but Hunk thought it was sweet how kind and loving they were to each other. He’d been super little when his folks split up, but he could still remember all the tears and door slamming and fighting before his Mom moved him and his sisters to Cuba and left their Dad in Upolu. Groaning, he dropped back down to the ground, “I love his visits… but I don’t want it to be like before.”

“You need to tell them that,” Rachel said, nodding, “they can’t fix it if they don’t know.”

“Maybe…” Lance added quietly, “they don’t want it to be like before, too. Maybe they’re gonna make sure it’s different now?”

“I hope so,” he whispered, and then he was squished between his best friends again, both of them hugging him with their skinny little arms.

“We’ll be extra careful not to fight,” Rachel promised and he felt Lance nod against his shoulder.

“An’ you’ll have a treehouse, so if they fight, we can all sleep in there and ignore’em!”

“But… like… not _just_ when they fight,” insisted Rachel, “we’ll have soooo many sleepovers, Hunk! Treehouse sleepovers?? The bestest sleepovers ever!”

“Three Musketeers, right?” he asked, already feeling a little better.

“Yuh-huh. All for one.”

“And one for all!”

* * *

Whatever device Coran was using to scan him really, really needed recalibration. The shrill whine he could just barely hear was driving him nuts. He couldn’t even concentrate on Allura’s lecture.

And he was really _trying_ to concentrate on Allura’s lecture, because he needed to focus on something other than the fact that Pidge was freaking crying… which, at this point, might actually kill him faster than the damn flowers.

“Frankly,” Allura tutted, “I’m also very disappointed in Lance! I cannot believe he went along with hiding a health issue of such consequence from all of us! I plan on having some words with him, I assure you!”

What!?!? “No!” he yelped, startling everyone. He’d been pretty much been silent since he’d been confronted with the reality of his declining health and Pidge dragged him off to the medical bay for a thorough assessment. Coran had taken one look at the flowers Pidge was still clutching and immediately summoned Allura and Shiro. It was sheer luck that he hadn’t called the whole team. “You cannot tell Lance! You can’t! No matter what!”

“Well,” Shiro sighed, “that answered the big question.”

“You have to tell Lance,” Pidge squeaked, “just in case. I mean, the odds are low, but… you have to try.”

Huh? “I am not telling Lance,” he insisted, digging in his heels, “and neither are any of you! You cannot. It’s confidential medical information, right?”

Everyone glanced back and forth at each other, a silent conversation he wasn’t a part of. “Hunk,” Shiro said quietly, “your life is so much more important than your pride.”

“I don’t give a shit about my _pride_!” What was wrong with them? “Telling Lance is going to do _zero_ to help me, and it will just destroy him. You don’t know him like I do. I won’t hurt him like that. Period. And I **swear** if any of you decide to, I will haunt your asses forever! Don’t push m-” Coughing cut him off and everyone burst into motion. Shiro thumped firmly on his back as Coran tucked some kind of tube against his nose, and Allura handed him a tissue-like cloth. 

“Fine!” Pidge snapped, panic lacing her voice, “we won’t say anything to Lance… just… you gotta breathe, Hunk. You gotta.”

Eyes watering as he choked on petals and plant bits that he could _fe_ _el_ tearing his throat up, he struggled to draw in a breath. Pidge grabbed a basin and rushed to his side. “Breathe Hunk… c’mon… you gotta breathe… God, there’s so many fucking flowers… Hunk, breathe! Hunk! **Hunk!** ”

* * *

“What do you mean ‘you took a dive’?!?! Rache!” He gaped at her, “we had a plan! Three Musketeers, remember? Space. **Together!** ”

“I know, I know… but Lance needs to be a pilot. He’s going to be such an amazing pilot! You’ve seen him in those sims, Hunk. He’s _good_ , he’s really good… and you? You’re brilliant. You guys belong at the Galaxy Garrison…. I… don’t.”

“You’re nuts, of course you do! You are just as good as I am! Better!”

“Hunk, no. I am happy here. I love the farm, I love tinkering with engines, and surfing whenever I want. I have friends and family. I don’t… I don’t need the big adventures- and I know you are going to say that you don’t either… but you are wrong. You and Lance- you guys are bigger than Varadero.” She kicked her legs, leaning her arms over the railing his Dad had installed after Lance’s ‘fall’ from the treehouse. “He can’t be a pilot if he’s on anxiety meds, Hunk.”

“Which is why you should **be** there- so he doesn’t need them!”

“No… it’s why he needs to figure out who he is _without_ me… because I see it. You see it. We know he’s amazing. But _he_ doesn’t. He needs to be somewhere that he isn’t half of ‘Lance and Rachel’... and he needs you there with him. And I... “ She swiped at her eyes, the first tear starting to fall, “I need to stop overshadowing _both_ of you guys.”

“But, Rachel-”

“Hunk, please. You two are my favorite people in the whole world. I can’t be the reason you guys don’t get to shine. I need you to do this. Please? I need you to take care of him for me. He doesn’t trust anyone else.”

Heart breaking, he nodded, pulling her into a hug. “Okay… yeah… Alright. I’ll go. I’ll make sure he goes.”

“He’s going to try to refuse on principle, you know that, right?” she sniffled.

“I have actually met my best friend before, Rache,” he teased, making her laugh through the tears a little. “You know… Galaxy Garrison accepts new students from later grades, too. Maybe next year…”

“We’ll see… but… don’t hold your breath. It’s not my dream, Hunk. It’s you guys’ dream.”

“But you make us brave,” he whispered, fighting back his own tears.

“I **don’t** ,” she insisted, “you guys are so brave! You just don’t _see_ it! I promise you… you are both so brave… so brave… and I love you guys so much… so you have to go… and I- I- I… umm… I’ll be right here. Holding down the fort. It’ll be okay. Three Musketeers. We’re stronger than a bit of distance, right?”

“All for one, and one for all,” he promised. “Me and Lance… we’ll take care of each other. Don’t you worry.”

“M’not worried… just gonna miss you…” Rachel pulled away, angrily swiping at her face and sniffling. She’d always hated crying. “So much. So,” she took a breath, visibly reining herself in, “test is done. Admissions letters come out in two months, and I _know_ you guys are going to be accepted for classes in September. So, by math, that is five months of Musketeers adventures left to plan and execute… and if we don’t do it, Lance will…”

“Oh God, not Lance’s plans! Right. We need to get to work. What do you have in mind?”

* * *

Waking in a med pod was a disconcerting and eerie experience. Once it happened to you, you never forgot it. It was impossible to mistake it for anything else. Which was how Hunk knew something weird was going on when he woke up. Because… he was **not** in a pod. His throat felt funny, and there was a strange mask thing covering his nose. He was also incredibly tired. A kind of exhaustion he couldn’t remember ever feeling before. Groaning, he struggled to sit up, only to be pushed back into the mattress gently.

“Easy now, give yourself a minute.” Shiro. That was Shiro. His eyes fluttered open, confirming that Shiro was sitting beside him. “There you go. Take it easy, now. You damaged your throat. Coran had to fix you up. The meds are a bit unpredictable for humans, though… so you might feel a bit odd.”

“My,” he coughed, bracing for the fire-acid feeling of plant bits scraping over his raw throat. It never came. The cough settled quickly, too. It was… odd. “My throat?” He tried again, “what did he do?”

“As to that,” Coran said as he came into view, “nothing permanent, I’m afraid Number 2. Scans showed that the majority of the damage was localized to one lung, so I have temporarily immobilized that lung, and we repaired your throat, then coated the injured tissues with a protective biofilm. It will last a quintant or two and then we will reassess. How are you feeling?”

“Better,” he said after a moment of self-assessment, “I’m feeling better. I can get back to work.”

“You absolutely cannot,” Shiro argued. “You have _half_ your lung capacity, Hunk… and that last coughing jag needed surgical repairs. You are confined to medbay while we come up with a treatment plan.”

“There’s no treatment, Shiro,” he reminded him, “at least, none I consent to. Coran- how long do I have?”

“Well… you see… that is somewhat unpredictable.” He handed Hunk a datapad. Scans of his chest were displayed on the screen.

Oh.

Oh wow.

There was just… so much more than he’d imagined. The petals were greyish blurs, obscuring most of his chest, which was bad. But, the really creepy thing was the… roots? Vines? The _other_ parts of the plants, anyway. They looked like strange black veins. Like something out of old horror movies… and they were… **everywhere**. He could see them tangled around his organs, creeping down his legs and arms, winding up his neck, and coiled so tightly around his heart it was almost completely hidden from view. 

Weirdly, he was relieved. 

At this stage, even a confession with returned feelings would likely be too late. Surgery was definitely long past being a viable option. He didn’t have long, and they couldn’t push him to do something he didn’t want. It was time to say his good-byes. There was a strange peace in that.

“We need to figure out what you are going to tell Lance,” he said, and it was obvious that neither of the men in the room with him had expected that. “He cannot know that I have Hanahaki. I’m serious. You have no idea what that will do to him.”

“I think you are underestimating the Red Paladi-”

“I’m not. I don’t think he is weak. That’s not what this is. Promise me.”

“Hunk, I’m really not sure this is the best way to-”

" **Promise me, Shiro!** ” he snapped, “dying wish here. Lance can’t ever know.”

Shiro was so taken aback he actually jerked away from him. Pain washed over his face and for a second it looked like he was going to argue, but he must have seen how resolute Hunk was. “Fine. I promise. We can… come up with something. Right, Coran?”

Coran sighed, obviously not liking this plan. He took the datapad back and typed something into it, hummed, and then nodded. “Yes… there is a fungal infection that exhibits similar symptoms. The progression is different, but at this late stage… it would be difficult to tell the difference without xenobiological training. It’s rare… but then, so is this.”

“What’s it called?” he asked. It was easier to breathe if he took slow, steady breaths through his nose. There was something being pumped through the mask that was soothing. It felt cool and… soft… somehow.

“Hryloginanic Bloom,” Coran said evenly.

Hunk and Shiro blinked at each other. “Yeah, you’re gonna have to run that by us one more time, Coran. Nice and slow.”

“Hry-lo-gin-anic Bloom,” he repeated. “The outcomes are remarkably similar, although the pathology itself is absolutely fascinating. It is caused by air contaminated by the spoor of a particular stage of the reproductive cycle of the-”

“I don’t think it is necessary for us to know all that right now, Coran.”

“Right. Yes. Of course. Are you hungry, Hunk? Should I get you some sustenance?”

He shook his head, “not hungry… just tired. So tired.”

“You just had surgery,” Shiro said kindly, “it was pretty quick, but there were some major changes… and you are _very_ ill. I don’t know how you managed to hide this for so long! You must have gotten sick shortly after we came to space.”

“Uhh… no… I was already sick. I had medication… to… uh... to slow the progression. I was diagnosed on Earth.” Cringing, he glanced up at Coran, “that’s the medication I asked you about… I’m sorry I lied to you.”

“I think we are beyond worrying about that kind of thing, Hunk.” Coran patted his leg and smiled at him. “I should go inform Allura and Pidge of the ‘official’ diagnosis before they encounter Lance.”

“Do you want anything?” Shiro was surprisingly at ease in the midst of all the medical crap given the shit he must have seen when he was being held by the Galra. 

“Have you contacted Keith yet?” 

Shiro shook his head, “I wasn’t sure if you’d want me to…”

“You should. He should know what’s going on.” He let his eyes drift shut, “and you’re gonna need to find a new Yellow Paladin.”

“And you think that _Keith_ is going to be a good fit for Yellow? The emotional backbone of the team?” 

Even with his eyes shut, he knew exactly what Shiro’s face looked like. “Mmm… probably not… but maybe. He cares a lot, he’s just… quiet about it. Yellow sees it. But… probably Lance in Yellow and Keith in Red. At least for a while. Yellow knows… he knows he can’t be too picky. No time. He likes them.”

“You’ve been putting a lot of thought into this, haven’t you?”

Hunk nodded softly, “mmhmm… there are letters… videos… in my quarters. For everyone. You know… for after.” His throat tickled and he paused, breathing slowly through that mask. “For people on Earth, too.”

He felt the warm metal of Shiro’s galra hand cover his own, squeezing gently. “Alright. You rest. I’ll deal with all that, when the time comes. For now… I’ll go hail Keith.”

“Kay,” he mumbled, already drifting off to sleep. Vaguely, it occurred to him that there was probably some kind of sedative or relaxant in whatever he was breathing through the mask.

* * *

“Happy Birthday Hunk!” Lance and Rachel grinned at him over the sloppily iced cake that they’d lugged up into the treehouse.

“Thanks guys,” he grinned, blowing out the candles as they sang the nonsense birthday song they’d all come up with when they were tiny. “Even though my birthday isn’t for weeks!”

“Yeah, but for your actual birthday, we’ll be back at school. So, get used to celebrating it between Christmas and New Year’s until you graduate, buddy,” Lance laughed.

“I’m not missing out on your birthday parties,” Rachel added, “and since you didn’t have the sense to be born during summer break like us…”

“Pretty sure that is not how pregnancy and birth works, but fine.”

“Man,” Lance grumbled, “when did this treehouse get so small? It’s such a tight squeeze for sleepovers now.”

Rachel rolled her eyes, “this is just him bragging about that growth spurt again.”

“Oh, I know. I heard all about the burden of having to get fitted for another uniform,” he stage-whispered, “again.”

“I am so, so, sorry,” she replied, deadpan. Then she was on the move, tackling Lance in retaliation for the empty pop can he tossed at her. Hunk flattened his back against the far wall of the treehouse, the plate containing the cake balanced protectively in his lap as the twins roughhoused.

“Ow! Owowowowow! No _pinching_ , Rache! Your fingers are like crab claws!”

“Do you give up, then?” Rachel cackled.

“What?! Hell no! Bring it, sister!”

“Really? That was so cheesy!”

Hunk smiled at the two of them. His best friends. Lance was practically the brother he’d never had- especially after a semester as roommates at the Galaxy Garrison. Rachel… any fears he’d had that distance would lessen their friendship had been unfounded. They were as close now as they ever had been. She was doing great in Cuba, and Lance was… coming into his own, just like she’d predicted. Honestly, he kind of liked that the distance meant that they all ended up with more one on one interactions. He and Lance vid-chatted with her a few times a week, but she’d also just… call each of them a couple of times a week too. 

He loved the long, rambling conversations he and Rachel had- him doing homework, her chatting as she worked on one of her projects, or did maintenance for the farm, each of them troubleshooting for the other. He even liked hearing Lance rambling on to her long after lights outs, the familiar sounds of their little patchwork language in his ear as he drifted off to sleep. Things were different, but they were okay. The three of them would be okay.

“Are you two done yet? We still have a cake to eat and movies to watch!”

Grumbling and laughing, they grabbed forks and joined him, the three of them splitting the cake. Then they watched movies they’d seen so many times that not only did they have them memorized, they had developed entire ‘audience participation’ routines to go along with them out of years’ worth of inside jokes. By the time they’d pulled out the sleeping bags, they were giddy from sleepiness.

Lance hadn’t been wrong about how crowded the treehouse built for a trio of seven year olds felt for three tall teenagers, but none of them really cared. This was their haven. The evils of the world couldn’t touch them up here. Within these familiar walls, the Musketeers were safe and together and nothing else mattered. 

For once, Lance was the first one asleep. Rachel smiled down at her brother and shook her head, whispering, “he got so _tall_!”

Hunk nodded, “he was so sure he was as tall as Marco. Wouldn’t believe me when I said he wasn’t.”

She rolled her eyes, “he’s always been obsessed with Marco. Soooo… how’s school?”

He laughed, “how’s school? Really?? We talk all the time, Rache. You know how school is!”

Her nose crinkled and he got that warm feeling that he always got when she did that. “I know, I know… but…” she sighed, “I dunno… Okay- it’s like. I feel like I hear about school the way our parents do, you know? Like… I kind of know all the major plot points, without knowing all the little details that make everything else makes sense. Like… there was always so much stuff that happened that we never really talked about, but we all saw it, so we could still make jokes and shit. That’s what I miss. Like the way we used to be able to just look at each other when Lance said something and we’d… just… know. No words. You know?”

“I dunno,” he answered, “I feel like you know that I know that we know what he knows.” Smirking, he poked her in the shoulder, “how did you cram the word ‘know’ into that sooooo many times!?!”

“Ass.” Huffing, she dropped back onto her pillow, “I’m starting to think Lance is right that he’s your favorite twin!”

He looked at her, with her long, wavy hair poorly restrained by the pair of long braids she’d put it in to sleep. Took in the familiar curve of her nose in profile, the line of her jaw, the way her eyebrows scrunched together. Watched the thoughts that flitted through her mind get broadcast on her expressive face. Smiled when those pretty blue eyes slid over to his face again.

“It’s not funny!”

“I know. Sorry.” He didn’t stop smiling though. He couldn’t. The overwhelming swell of just… _fondness_ was too strong. “I promise you, Rachel Aliet, I do not have a favorite McClain. You’re my best friends. I don’t have a favorite sister. I don’t have a favorite parent. I don’t have a favorite twin. Got it?”

“Got it,” she hugged him, his nose filling with the smell of Moso’oi flowers from her perfume. “That was smooth… how often does he hear that speech?”

“No idea what you are talking about.”

“Well, he’s just gonna have to settle for being my favorite twin.”

“I guess so,” Hunk laughed, “go to sleep, Rache. Fifty fifty whether he’s gonna wake us up to watch the sunrise.”

“Shit- you’re right,” she made a face, and rolled over to cuddle into Lance, “gross. Luv’oo Hunkie!”

“Yeah,” he smiled at the back of her head, “luv’oo, too.”

* * *

After fourteen years of regular sleepovers and being roommates during the school year, sharing a bed with Lance was so normal that his sleeping brain didn’t even register it. So, it wasn’t the familiar weight of his head cushioned on Hunk’s chest, or the long limbs sprawled over him that woke him. It was the way his slender frame shook with silent tears.

Reflexively, he rolled onto his side, snuggling Lance closer, his hand patting Lance’s back gently. “S’okay,” he murmured, already drifting back to sleep.

“Liar,” Lance answered, his voice raw from the effort of stifling the sounds of his crying. 

The word hit Hunk like a bucket of ice water. His eyes snapped open and reality came crashing back in. At some point while he’d been out, they’d connected him to more equipment. There was an unfamiliar monitor beside the bed, presumably getting some kind of signal from the glowing blue patches that had been stuck to his arms and face. An iv tube disappeared into the back of his hand, delivering a shimmery yellow liquid into his bloodstream… which was more than a little unsettling to see. “I’m sorry, Lance,” he whispered, guilt over hiding his illness from his friend battering at him now that the secret was out, “really.”

“It’s not okay,” Lance insisted, “don’t say it is. You’re… you… you’re… sick. So, it’s not okay.”

Oh.

Lance hadn’t even been talking about the whole lying and keeping secrets parts. Just the dying bit. That didn’t really make Hunk feel <i>less<i> like shit, but at least it didn’t need the kind of conversation the other option did. “You’re cold… why are you lying on top of the blankets? Get in here before you start to shiver.”

“I got my jeans on...”

“Like I care? Just no shoes and no socks.” Gingerly, being careful of his newly acquired tubes, he shifted over in the bed. Feet appropriately bare, Lance climbed into bed beside him. “There, now neither of us will freeze in here.”

“This whole Castle is so damn drafty,” Lance muttered, “I don’t know how Pidge survives! Shorts?!?! Brrrr…”

“Remember when Rache came to visit us that time?” Hunk smiled at the memory, “and she was loving the desert heat all day?”

“Oh man, yeah… and then the sun set and she was like _offended_ that it got cold at night?” Lance laughed softly, his voice was still a little shaky and raw from the crying but sounding a bit more upbeat.

“She kept yelling at Veronica to get her another sweater… She acted like the desert was cold at night specifically to piss her off!” They both rolled their eyes in remembered affection and exasperation, and just like that, things were back to normal.

The next few days were a hazy blur to Hunk. Lance had pretty much moved in with him, keeping him company every minute he didn’t have somewhere else he needed to be. Periodically, when he returned to what Hunk had begun to think of as his hospital room, he brought a blanket with him. Before long, Hunk had the coziest bed on the ship- which was good, because as his oxygen levels dropped, he developed a chill that was hard to shake, and he spent more and more time sleeping.

Keith hadn’t arrived yet, but Shiro assured Hunk that he was checking in multiple times a day and was ready to drop everything if Hunk took a turn for the worse. He didn’t want to have to leave again once he got back to the Castle, so he was trying to make sure there was nothing left unfinished with the Blades. Hunk could understand that. He’d figured Keith out a while ago and he had no doubt that he was working his ass off to get back to them as soon as he could without causing problems.

At least once a day, either Shiro or Allura would drag Lance off to train, which led to him getting something to eat and cleaning himself up. It was sweet of them, and so far Lance hadn’t seemed to clue in that they weren’t being ‘hardasses’, they were watching out for him. None of the others really knew what to make of the Lance they were finally getting to see. They were mistaking this quieter, more introverted, more serious version of the Red Paladin for a stress response… and in a way it kind of was, just not the way they thought. 

This was the Lance that Hunk knew best. Lance, when he had more important things to worry about than impressing people, or putting on a brave face- which roughly translated as ‘act more like Rachel’... a tactic with very spotty success. He still had the same sense of humor, the same overflowing energy and competitive streak… it was just balanced out by the things he didn’t let people often see. 

The first time Pidge had arrived to find Lance curled up beside him with a datapad, engrossed in reading a novel Hunk had translated from Altean when they were developing that program, she’d done a literal double take. Shiro had handled it better when he’d asked Coran a question about Hunk’s condition and Lance had pulled out a datapad, filled with his own notes and answered before Coran could even pull up the information. Allura was the only one who didn’t seem surprised, which Hunk took as proof of his theory that Lance gravitated to her because she reminded him enough of Rachel that he actually let himself relax. Even though he didn’t seem to know that’s what he was doing, or why.

Pidge had stopped crying, which he was grateful for. But it had been replaced by anger, which was... less than ideal. She was churlish and agitated- angry that there was a problem she couldn’t solve, pissed at the universe for being unfair. He got it. He did. It was just hard to see, and harder to know he was the cause of it. Still, she showed up twice a day to talk shop and hang out. She’d made a mock up of a chess board- just a grid marked out on an old tray she’d found, and red and black symbols on decorative rocks she’d pulled out of a planter or something. It wasn’t anything fancy, but it worked, and they had an ongoing game.

On the fifth day, Lance and Coran loaded him along with his iv into a floating chair, and brought him down to Yellow. The swell of love and worry he got from the big guy choked him up, but it was really great to be able to just hang out with his Lion for a bit. He had no idea how long they left him with Yellow, but they timed it well, coming back for him just when he felt like he was starting to fade. It could be challenging to gauge his energy levels, because there was no way to predict when a coughing fit would happen. They were less frequent now- Coran said it was because his lungs had gotten so congested that there was less motion in the plants to trigger the coughs- but when they happened, they were long, powerful, and he coughed up truly disturbing volumes of plant bits. It took him hours to recover his strength after each bout now, which meant he was pretty much bed bound.

When they returned him to the medward, he discovered that they’d moved the videogame set-up to his room. Pidge excitedly revealed it like it was the prize on a gameshow. There were many promises of gaming marathons before he even managed to climb from the chair to the bed. Eventually, they managed to convince Allura that she should probably not participate. Her strength and extreme competitive streak was a bad combo when it came to ‘retro’ Earth tech that couldn’t be replaced. Hunk had harrowing images of Allura shattering a controller if she threw it at the wall like **some people** did when they died. (Pidge. It was Pidge. Pidge threw the controller.)

That was a good day. Lance had used the time he was with Yellow to cook again- which he could do, even with alien ingredients. He just… didn’t often do much more than help Hunk, because he knew it was one of the ways the Hunk dealt with his stress. It wasn’t anything fancy- a space version of creamy red pepper and tomato soup- but it was so good whenever he got to eat something familiar and **not** alien food goo, he cried.

All of the hustle and bustle exhausted him and once he’d eaten, he was barely managing to stay awake. He hadn’t wanted to sleep, but the others had insisted that he rest. The dim, mostly empty room combined with Lance softly singing songs they’d grown up with was too much to resist and he dozed off.

“... at this point, we’re more worried about cardiac issues than the lungs…”

“... wasn’t expecting it to be this…”

“... he’s still… and his Mom… trying to focus on him right now…”

The conversation faded in and out of his awareness as he struggled to wake up. Every time he started to stir, the fingers slipping through his hair lulled him back to sleep. It was like soft ripples of ocean water slipping over the surface of his board as he waited for the next wave. He could almost hear Rachel and Lance bantering back and forth, voices laced with challenge and affection. 

“... should have tried harder… sooner…”

“... want that… what’s important, Keith…”

Keith? That caught his attention, his drowsy brain connecting the name to the voice. Blearily, he blinked. Flinched from the light. Blinked again. Waking was a struggle, but he pushed through. Reality slowly came into focus, Lance’s hand combing through his hair. He yawned and Lance leaned over to smile at him, “Hey sleepyhead! 'Ua ā?”

“Ua sili atu aʻu,” he answered honestly. 

Lance’s smile faltered, but he rallied and helped Hunk sit up. “Look who’s back…”

“Hey Keith,” he smiled, “sorry- kind of rude to exclude you with the Samoan.”

“It’s fin-”

“I just asked how he was feeling,” Lance cut in in a rush, flushing, “and he said he’s been better. Stop making it sound like we were exchanging state secrets or something, Hunk!”

“Lance was just filling me in a bit,” Keith said, opting out of touching on Lance’s comment. Hunk could see Lance starting to implode a bit and made a note to save him from himself if it got any worse. “And… Shiro’s been keeping me in the loop… I… I should have come back sooner…”

“You had shit you needed to do,” Hunk said, reaching for the ever-present glass of water on his nightstand and taking a sip. “I get that. You’re here now.”

“Yeah.” Keith didn’t relax. Not that Hunk was really expecting him to. Deathbed vigils weren’t exactly something that people their age were all that experienced in, and Keith struggled with ‘hanging out’ at the best of times. It was okay. He didn’t need to be entertained or distracted. It was enough that Keith was here. That everyone was together. They were going to need each other.

“When did you get in?” He asked, giving Keith something pretty straightforward and normal to respond to.

“Couple of vargas ago. I had some work stuff to pass along, then I dropped my crap off in my room and headed here.”

“You slept through a solid hour of prime emo glaring,” Lance joked, smirking. “It was riveting!”

“What? I wasn’t-”

“So,” he interrupted, because he knew how fast that would turn into arguing and he was **not** up to dealing with that! “When was the last time you ate?”

“I’m fine,” Keith blinked at him, stunned, “there is no way I’m going to be okay with you getting out of your hospital bed to make me lunch, Hunk! That’s nuts!”

“Like I’d even let that happen!” Lance glared sternly at him, “what do you want to eat- I’ll make it!”

“Lance,” he chuckled, “I’m just making conversation!”

“Ah-bip-bip-bip! Uh-uh. No. I know you. You’re hungry. Of course you are, you’ve been sleeping for hours. What do you want?”

“I don’t want anything, Lance.” He knew it was futile, though. Lance took taking care of him too seriously.

“You need to eat. You need the fuel to keep your strength up! You finished off the soup… but we still have pasta sauce left and I made those… fake meatball things. You liked that, right?”

“Yes,” he relented. “That was delicious. There’s no rush though.”

Brow furrowing, Lance made an annoyed noise that sounded exactly like the annoyed noise every single McClain made. Hunk had heard it more times than he could count as Lance’s mother stood on her front step and swept her assessing, disappointed gaze over whatever mess the three of them had gotten themselves into; and from their father when he had to leave the farm to ferry them to and from their various outings. He’d heard it from Veronica in almost every conversation she had with them at the Garrison. He’d heard it from Marco when he and the twins had been tying up the landline for hours on end before their parents just gave up on the whole concept of ‘curfews’ for them. He’d heard it from teenaged Luis every time he’d gotten stuck babysitting ‘the three amigos’ when he wanted to be literally anywhere else. He’d heard it from Rachel… so many times. 

“I’m getting you some food,” Lance said, not surprising Hunk in the slightest. “You hungry, Mullet? Just as easy to make two plates as it is to make one.”

“Uh… I could eat,” Keith said, watching Lance slide out of the bed and fuss over the placement of the blankets and tubes like it was some kind of nature documentary. 

“Okay, cool… I’ll bring you something, too. Now- you!” Lance pointed at him, his expression stern, “if you get tired, **tell him**! Nobody wants you pushing yourself, not even Keith. Got it?”

He fought the urge to roll his eyes, opting instead to give him a playful salute. “Got it. Relax, Lance. I’m just going to sit here and chat.” Pointing again in silent warning, Lance backed out of the room.

“Lance cooks?”

Smiling at the memory of learning how to make Fa’apapa together before they even started school, all three of them kneeling on the long bench that his family had at the kitchen island, he nodded, “mmhmm… we learned to cook together, actually. Back when we were kids.”

“I didn’t know,” Keith shifted awkwardly, glancing at the door like he was checking for eavesdroppers, “that you guys… were… you know… together.”

Well, well, well… _that_ hadn’t taken long! “Me and Lance??” He shook his head, “we’re not. He’s just worried, so he’s being kind of… a lot.”

“Are you sure? Because that really looked like…”

“Am I **sure** I’m not dating Lance?” He laughed, being careful not to start coughing. “Yes. Very sure.”

“Hey! You were asleep in his lap when I got here! It’s not like that’s _the norm_!” Huffing, cheeks blazing, Keith crossed his arms over his chest and glared.

“Sorry… I wasn’t laughing at you just… the idea that anyone could ever date Lance, of all people, and not realize it was… doesn’t matter.” He gestured at the bed, “that whole sharing a bed thing is… it’s not a couple thing. It’s a slumber party thing.”

The blush didn’t fade out, but Keith seemed to relax a bit. “You guys have been friends a long time, huh?”

“Oh yeah. Since the day I moved to Cuba when I was four. Grew up in each other’s pockets. We didn’t even speak any of the same languages… not that it really mattered- because Lance didn’t say anything directly to me for like months!”

“No way! But he never shuts up!”

“He does, you just haven’t seen much of it,” he defended automatically. “But, when we were little he was shy. He’d whisper to Rachel, she’d say it outloud… I wouldn’t understand it… and we’d figure it out from there.”

“Rachel? I thought his sister was Veronica. That was his sister right? From the Garrison? She was one of the peer tutors…”

“He’s got two sisters… Rachel wasn’t at the Garrison. Veronica is older.”

“He never talks about Rachel… they have a falling out or something?”

Hunk paused, not sure how much to share. Lance didn’t casually talk about Rachel for a reason… but more than once, he’d told Hunk how much of a ‘life-saver’ it was to be able to talk about her with him. Soon, that wouldn’t be an option, and while Hunk had explained the background in his letters to Shiro and Allura so they knew how to support Lance… Rachel was Hunk’s friend too, and he loved her, and he was never going to see her again. God, he wanted to talk about her!

“No… they are very close. We all are. She’s his twin. The whole Musketeers thing? It’s the three of us. Me, him, and Rachel.”

“But… he never talks about her…” 

“Not with you guys, no. He doesn’t have to, because he talks to me about her… and,” he sighed, “it’s just complicated. I don’t… it’s not because they aren’t close. It’s the opposite. They are… very ‘twinny’ twins.”

“I can’t believe Lance has a twin! What’s she like?”

“She’s…” He pictured her, with her hot temper and quick mind. The laugh that always seemed to be tugging at the corners of her mouth. His heart **ached** , but he smiled. “She’s awesome. One of those people that always seem like they have a spotlight shining on them, you know? Everybody loves Rachel- even though she… kind of has a bad habit of punching shit.”

He laughed, one of those short, harsh bursts of laughter that was over almost as soon as it began, “punching shit?”

Hunk nodded, “oh yeah! Too many suspensions for punching **people** , so she shifted her target to like walls and doors and… my favorite… _trees_. Her knuckles are always all busted up. Although, not so much anymore. That was mostly when we were kids. But, in her defense, usually the punching thing was like a protective instinct. She’s always been very, ‘what did you say about my friend?’ You know, that kind of punchy.”

“Huh… and everyone loves her?”

He rubbed at the little scar on his forearm, “yeah. People are always trying to get close to her, and as long as they don’t hurt someone she cares about, she likes pretty much everyone. Smart, too. Grease monkey like me… and fucking fearless. We used to get into so much trouble together.”

“I’m surprised she didn’t go to the Garrison, too…”

“Yeah,” his mood fell, “she… uh… she didn’t pass the exam. We were all going to go together… and then she… failed the exam… so… Yeah. She stayed in Cuba. She loves it there.”

“We don’t have to talk… I mean…” Something close to panic flickered in Keith’s eyes and he sat up straighter, his focus shifting. “Hey! You’ve got the game system in here?”

“What? Oh! Yeah… they surprised me with it… Allura wants to play… I’m not sure-”

“Allura?” Keith gaped at him, “you know she _threw_ Shiro that time, right? Like, she shot-putted **Shiro** into an escape pod!”

“I know! And have you ever tried to play cards with her? She is worse than Lance! Viciously competitive! Like, seriously- vicious.”

“And you guys call me the hothead!”

“I mean, to be fair… you like to jump into open space without a back-up plan, Keith.” He pinned him with a look until Keith shrugged and waved him off.

“I haven’t done that in forever.”

“So you claim,” he teased, “who knows what you’ve been up to with the Blade!”

“I do! I know!” Keith looked so genuinely exasperated that Hunk had to laugh.

Which was a mistake.

Things had gotten so much worse since the last time Keith had seen him in the grips of his illness. He could understand why it would freak him out. It freaked everyone out. The others had just figured out how to pretend to be calm about it. 

Keith didn’t even bother to try.

He’d seen the petals and blossoms, the stems and roots, all spattered with blood. He’d seen just _how many_ there were. How relentless the coughing was. He’d seen how long the stretches between weak, gasping inhalations were. How blue Hunk’s lips and fingertips went. He’d seen all that and he’d done exactly the kind of thing that had earned him a reputation for being a hot head.

He’d jumped out of his seat. Slammed his hand into the alarm-slash-buzzer thing on the wall beside Hunk’s bed, and started screaming for Coran and Shiro.

The last thing Hunk saw before he passed out was Allura and Coran rushing into the room… and Keith keeping Lance out in the hallway as the hovering tray of food floated away from them.

* * *

“I hate this stupid dress,” Rachel griped, glaring at the mirror. 

“I think you look pretty,” Lance said, fixing the bow in her hair. “Same blue as our eyes- see?”

“You get to wear pants,” she huffed, “s’not fair!”

“I hafta wear a _black_ coat the whole entire day!”

“Stupid wedding!”

“You guys!” Hunk gasped, scandalized, “you don’t mean that! Your big brother is getting married! You _love_ Lisa!”

They exchanged a look, rolling their eyes at him. “You don’t get it,” Lance sighed.

“No, I don’t,” he narrowed his eyes at them, “the wedding means Lisa gets to be your sister- for reals! It’s a big party… and she and Luis gave you guys special jobs! S’important!”

“I guess…” sulked Lance, who had been perfectly excited with every aspect of the day until Rachel had started complaining. “Least I don’t have to say anything. Nonica has to read a poem!”

“An’I get to tell people where to sit,” Rachel mused, “and they hafta listen to me. Even the grown-ups! That’s kinda cool.”

“And after Church, there’s going to be a big party! With cake!”

“I like cake!” Lance’s face lit up.

“We know, Lance,” Rachel sighed, “everybody likes cake… and Luis said there was gonna be dancing. You like dancing, too.”

“Don’wanna dance.” He shook his head, backing away from his sister. “Too many people.”

“So what? Lance! You gotta stop letting people keep you from doing stuff you like!”

“I don’t! I just.. Don’t like people lookin’at me!”

“I bet,” Hunk piped up, “we can find a spot to dance that’s just us! Would you dance then?”

“Ummm… maybe…”

“I’ll dance with you, Hunk,” Rachel promised, leaning in to kiss his cheek.

“Hey! What? No! You can’t leave me out! I’m gonna dance, too!” Stamping his foot angrily, Lance pointed at Rachel, “ _Three_ Musketeers! Not _two!_ All of us! All for one!”

She smiled at Hunk, a small, secret smile that Lance couldn’t see, and winked before letting out a big sigh. “Sure. Okay… Three Musketeers. We’ll all dance. All for one. Right Hunk?”

He nodded, “and all for one! Three Musketeers, Lance. Not two.”

* * *

“This is fucking bullshit!” Pidge poked him in the shoulder, her narrow finger hurting a surprising amount. “You know it is bullshit and it has gone on long enough!”

“Pidge-”

“No! No more fucking around Hunk! You need to tell him. Now. No more of this martyrdom asshattery!”

“Asshattery? I don’t think that’s a word.” God, he was so cold. He’d been freezing ever since they pulled him out of the cryopod. That little experiment had gone poorly. The pod hadn’t wanted to let him out because it couldn’t heal his illness, and it’s attempts to do so had just sped up the growth of the flowers. He was too far gone. They’d had to do an override. It was apparently very dramatic. 

Coran said something about the lingering chill being a side effect of some medication he was trying in the hopes that it would weaken the roots and vines that were growing around his heart. He’d been hooked up to a new machine that was oxygenating his blood for him. It was weird to be able to hold his breath and not get light-headed- although he did still have to exhale the carbon dioxide that was being released into his lungs. 

No one had said it in so many words, but he could tell from Shiro’s face and Pidge’s anger that he was getting close to the end now. He tried not to think too much about it. Tried not to think about his sisters or his parents. Tried not to imagine how they’d react. Tried to focus on making the most of the time he had with the family he had here. But, it was hard. He was so sick and so weak and he wanted his mom so bad. He wanted to be back at school, cramming for exams. Or home, basking in the Cuban sun, helping his sisters’ kids make soapbox derby cars, or heading down to the beach when the surf was good. Absolutely anywhere but sitting on his deathbed in the cold depths of space in a galaxy no one on Earth had even heard of, really.

“Don’t try to distract me!” She snapped, glaring. “You have to tell him.”

“No, I don’t- and don’t you dare tell him either!”

“I should!” She sniffled, the fear starting to erode the anger away. “I should march into his room right now and tell him everything! It might fix… all of this… But I promised, so I won’t… but, Hunk, please!”

His arm felt like it weighed a metric tonne, but he lifted it, wrapped it around her shoulders and gave the best half-hug he could manage. Something about that backfired, somehow, because instead of being comforted, his friend dissolved into tears. “Shhh….” He kissed the top of her head, the way his mother had kissed his when he’d had bad dreams as a kid. She crawled up into the bed beside him, resting her head on his chest, ear over his heart. “Telling Lance won’t change anything, Pidge. It won’t do anything but hurt him… and I’m already hurting him too much. I can’t do that.”

“Orrr maybe it would fix everything! I’ve seen him, Hunk. He’s a mess- worse than the rest of us. You should at least tr-”

“Pidge, stop. I’m too tired to fight with you. Please?” He tightened his arms a little, “trust me? I don’t want to be arguing with you. Not now. Telling Lance won’t do any good. I promise you, it won’t. So, please… let it go.”

“Have you met me?” She tried for a smile. It didn’t quite work, but he appreciated the effort. “Letting things go isn’t my strong suit, Hunk.”

“For me?” He’d been awake for maybe a varga and he was already feeling his strength fade. “Try?”

She huffed, but nodded, wiping away tears as she sat up again. “For you. Alright.”

“Get the chess board,” he suggested, “let’s see if we can finish that game.”

They played for a while, but he was so tired that he had a hard time focusing. Before too long, Shiro arrived and sent Pidge off to get some training in. They were still fighting a war, after all.

“How are you holding up?” Shiro’s voice was kind. Of everyone, he’d been the most at ease with all the medical stuff, which had really surprised Hunk.

“Tired,” he answered, “feel weak. I think…” Tears welled in his eyes. It felt like giving up. He wasn’t giving up. There just… weren’t any options. He couldn’t lose his memories of Rachel. He couldn’t! It would erase his entire childhood! He wouldn’t be _him_ without those memories!

Shiro’s hand covered his, squeezing softly. “I know,” he said, “it’s okay. You don’t have to say it. I know… and it’s okay to not be okay with it. You don’t have to be at peace with what’s happening. You’re allowed to be angry and scared and heartbroken. I was… and I…” He shook his head, blinking back tears and taking another breath. “I’d been sick a lot longer, and I never got… quite this close… but I was still... All of those things.”

“You’re sick? What’s wrong? Do Coran and Allura know? Does Keith? Shiro! You shouldn’t be in here-”

“Hunk, stop. No. I’m not sick anymore,” he sighed, “I had… a condition. It affected my muscles. But the Galra… it was something they knew how to fix. So… now… I’m not sick anymore. Don’t waste your strength worrying about me. Okay?”

“Oh,” he sagged in relief. That little burst of panic had taken a lot out of him. “Silver lining, I guess.”

“Yeah… I guess. That’s one way to look at it. Okay, big guy… how about I take over for Lance for a bit and read you some of that novel he’s been reading to you? That way you can rest your eyes a bit. Sound good?”

Nodding weakly, he mustered up a smile, “yeah. That’d be good. Thanks, Shiro.” There was another little squeeze of his hand and then he could hear Shiro shift around. He recognized the scrape of the datapad as it was picked up from the side table. “Where is Lance, anyway?”

“Keith dragged him off to the pool,” Shiro answered, “he was... jumpy. Keith managed to rope him into some kind of race or something.”

Hunk snorted. That would definitely get Lance’s attention off of him for a while. It would be more effective than anyone probably realized. “He can never resist a chance to compete against Keith.”

“Mmmhmmm… the ‘rivalry’. I am aware… which is why I suggested it to Keith. Now- where did he leave off? Ahhh… here we go: Myrlina had been travelling for four quintants already and her father’s warning still echoed in her ears. Her pride wouldn’t allow her to turn back, though, so she felt she had no choice but to forge onward- What is this story even about?”

“She wants to study alchemy, but her family thinks she has no talent for it and should stay with them. They are… like… a travelling musical group or something? I don’t think some of the Altean translated very well. Doesn’t matter. She ran away to study magic.”

“Alright… I guess the hero’s journey is universal. I couldn’t even guess how many books I read that had the same premise back on Earth. Okay then- where was I? Right: she had no choice but to forge onward. The path before her was clear, and she was an experienced traveller. There was nothing to fear, she merely had to trust her instincts and let her own quintessence guide her choices.”

All things considered, Shiro had a nice voice, he reflected. He didn’t do the voices and commentary that Lance did, but his voice, itself, was pleasant and soothing. It was easy to listen to him. Even if Hunk was so tired that after a few minutes he couldn’t really follow what was being read to him, just the cadence of the words was nice. Soothing. Someday, ‘space dad’ might be a real, actual Dad and he’d be good at the whole bedtime story thing. Hunk was confident in that, because legally he was a bona fide adult and Shiro had just barely started reading and he was already starting to drift off to sleep.

* * *

The night was warm and clear, the stars sparkling brightly over the fields of the McClain family farm. He saw the light in the window of the treehouse while he was working on his homework and tucked his laptop under his arm- heading out to investigate. He was half-dreading that he’d find Lance, upset and home way too early, but it was Rachel that greeted him.

“Hey,” she said, smiling at him, “I needed to get out of the house for a bit. You didn’t need to come check on me.”

“I didn’t know it was you,” he answered, sitting beside her on the floor. She shifted until they were leaning against each other- her with her sketchbook, him with his laptop. “Whatcha working on?”

“Mmmm… nothing really. The motor on the tractor died again. Dad wants to replace it… and I had an idea… I think I might be able to tweak a few things to make it more fuel efficient. I dunno… just fiddling with some ideas right now. You?”

“Homework- essay for history class. I hate essays.” He opened up his document again and got back to his proofreading. “Oh! Have you thought about adding solar panels?”

“Yes! That was my first idea- just to convert it to pure solar power, but Dad doesn’t want to do that, so I’m trying out some other ideas… just spitballing really. Annnnd… once you are done your essay, you can help. Not before.”

“Spoilsport,” he pouted, turning his attention back to his schoolwork. They worked together quietly, and as the evening wore on he noticed Rachel checking the time more and more frequently. Finally, he had to ask, “worried about Lance?”

“It’s his first official date! What if it goes badly? What if she says something mean? What if she doesn’t like him as much as he likes her?”

“I don’t think he even likes her that much,” Hunk pointed out. “He barely knows her.”

“Yeah, but… what if he _does_?” 

He heard something suspiciously sniffle-like. Everyone tended to focus on how Lance would react to being away from Rachel, because of his Twin Separation Anxiety… and because Rachel always seemed so on top of everything. So confident. So popular. It was like they thought she was immune to insecurity somehow.

Hunk knew better. 

He closed the laptop and turned his attention to his friend. “Then he likes her,” he whispered, rubbing the single tear-streak with his thumb. “But it’ll be okay.”

“I know,” she sniffled again, “but Luis, and Marco… even Veronica… they started dating and…”

“They’re not Lance. They’re not your **twin** , Rachel. No one is ever going to be able to replace you. Not even his soul mate. Not even his kids. Not even me.”

She laughed- the sound surprising her- and shoved him, “jerk.” Wiping her eyes she smiled at him, “thanks… I think… I think I just needed to hear that outloud, you know? Sometimes I… I want him to be happy… but now, he doesn’t need the meds anymore- and I’m so proud of him for that, but… you know, with that, and the whole ‘no overlapping classes’ thing… and you guys leaving for the Galaxy Garrison in a few weeks… sometimes I worry that…” Shrugging she trailed off to a tiny, scared whisper, “sometimes I worry that he’s going to outgrow me, you know?”

“No one wants to get left behind, Rache,” he commisserated, resting his big hands on her shoulders and staring into her blue eyes, “but there is no way that will happen. Even when all the zye-bees are gone, you are still twins. Nothing will ever come between you.”

“There are no bees, Hunk,” she said, rolling her eyes at him. 

“Exactly. No bees. Just Musketeers.” Hugging her close, he waited until her breathing settled back into a normal pattern, “better?”

“Yeah… better. Thank-you. You’re my best friend. I love you so much. You know that, right?”

“Never doubted it for a minute Rache. Promise. Now, get back to work- you’ve got an idea rattling around in that big brain that needs to get onto the page, right?”

“Right,” she flashed him a bright smile and settled against his side. He curled his arm around her ribs, and they wriggled and moved until they could both work without untangling from each other. 

Before he knew it, Mr. McClain’s truck pulled into the driveway and Rachel was on the move. “He’s back! Dad picked him up! C’mon, Hunk!” She pulled at his arm, “let’s go hear how it went!”

“Alright! Alright! I’m coming! Jeez!” He followed her down the ladder, dropping the last couple of feet to the ground to try to catch up.

She raced across his yard to the fence that separated their properties, yanking open the gate. “Lance! Hey! Come on, Hunk! Come on!”

He ran after her, watching the way her hair whipped in the wind. Her voice was so clear, so familiar…

… there was something so familiar about the voice…

… there was a girl… he was pretty sure there was a…

… there was someone in the treehouse with him…

… there was… he was… somewhere… important… with someone…

… someone…

* * *

“Are you _truly_ angry at us for saving Hunk’s life?”

“Don’t twist this, Allura! Hunk was very, very clear about his opinion on the surgery! He didn’t consent to this!”

“He doesn’t get to choose to die, Shiro! He’s a Paladin of Voltron! We honored his request to avoid surgery as long as we could!”

“Once death is imminent, refusal of consent to life-saving measures is null and void, Shiro- it is one of the core tenets of Altean medicine! Life is sacred!”

“The right to refuse treatment is one of the core tenets of _human_ medicine, Coran! Hunk is human!”

“And this is an _Altean_ vessel!”

What was going on? Why were they fighting? He’d had surgery? “Uhhhh… guys?” Oh wow, that **hurt**! He felt like his insides had been shredded! Little whimpers of pain caught in his throat. There wasn’t a single part of him that wasn’t screaming in agony.

“Hunk!” A hand brushed his hair back from his face, “I need to take a gander at those peepers, Number Two!”

“These readings are encouraging, Coran!”

“Hey, Hunk…” Metal fingers wrapped around his hand, “it’s okay, bud. I know it hurts right now… but we’re gonna put you in a pod and you’ll be good as new in no time. Understand?”

“Don’t try to talk,” Coran cut in, “there was extensive damage to your throat. Just nod if you understand us… and open your eyes.”

‘Extensive damage’? What the hell was going on? Blearily, he blinked, flinching at the brightness of the room. The blue penlight that Coran pointed directly at his retinas didn’t help, either. A pained whine escaped him and Shiro squeezed his hand again.

“It will be alright, Hunk,” Allura sounded so sad, “I’m going to increase your medication… let yourself fall asleep. When you wake, you’ll feel so much better.”

“Just rest, Hunk,” Shiro soothed, “we’ll all be right here when you come out of the pod.”

* * *

“You want top bunk?” His roommate, Lance, darted excitedly around the room. “I can’t believe we have bunk beds! What is this? Summer camp?”

“Doesn’t matter to me,” he answered, laughing, “we’ll probably end up both crashing out on the bottom bunk after movie marathons, anyway.”

“Then I’ll take the top bunk- closer to the stars, right?” He laughed, shooting Hunk finger guns, “that’s what _mmmrphnnn_ always says, anyway.”

“For sure!” He started to unpack, wanting to get his clothes stowed away so the utilitarian room would start to feel more like home.

“I can’t believe we are really here! The Galaxy Garrison! For real! This is amazing! We’re gonna go to space Hunk! Just like Takashi Shirogane!”

“Oh, here we go again- I don’t need a rundown of all of his records! I already know!”

“You’d better!” Lance unzipped his own luggage, digging around until he found something wrapped up in clothes. Hunk watched as he carefully unwound the blue sweater and his eyes turned sad for a moment. “Place of pride… what do you think? Here?” He set a picture frame on the top of their shared dresser.

“Perfect, Lance,” he answered. It wasn’t a large frame, about the size of a paperback novel, and it had seashells glued to each corner. Some kind of writing he couldn’t quite decipher ran along the bottom edge, and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t… quite… focus… on the picture…

* * *

He was falling before he was even aware that the pod was opening. Familiar arms caught him with a soft grunt and a whispered, “I gotcha, buddy.”

He was jostled a little and as one of his arms was pulled over strong shoulders, another body pressed into his other side, helping to support his weight while he regained his footing. “Breathe easy, big guy. You can do that again now.”

Keith. That had been Keith.

Finally, he blinked his eyes open. Shiro and Pidge were standing in front of him. Shiro held out a fuzzy blanket, and Pidge had a steaming mug of… something.

“C-c-c-c-cold,” he stuttered out.

“See, Mullet? Told’ja I wasn’t the only one who came out of those things with a chill. Hunk, we’re just bringing you back to your room and then you’ll be all toasty again. Promise.”

He nodded, grateful for the warmth of the people holding him, and for the blanket Shiro wrapped around the three of them. His brain was weirdly scrambled, though, and it was hard to track what was going on around him. Before he knew it, he was tucked up in a bendy bed, with blankets piled on him, and sipping on the mug of broth that Pidge handed over.

Everyone milled around the bed expectantly. Pidge couldn’t seem to decide whether to pace or perch on the foot of the bed. Keith leaned against the wall, arms crossed over his chest, but shifting his weight from one foot to the other every few seconds. Lance stood at the foot of the bed, next to the monitors, his face a mask of worry and fear. Shiro’s hand rested reassuringly on Lance’s shoulder, and… Coran and Allura were nowhere to be seen. That was decidedly strange. Even fuzzy-headed, he knew that was odd.

“Lance? Where’s the-”

Lance’s sob stopped him short. “Oh my God! You remember me! They said… the surgery… they said your memories would be all messed up!” Tears rolled down his face unchecked and he sniffled, “Coran said… you wouldn’t know who I was!”

“What?? That’s crazy! I would never forget you! You’re my best friend!”

“You… _remember_ him? Pidge seemed shocked, “you remember _Lance_?”

“Yes? I mean, he’s been my roommate at the Garrison for years! How could I forget Lance?” Worried now, he turned to Shiro, “what even happened? I had surgery? Why?”

“You don’t remember being sick?” Lance interrupted, talking a mile a minute, despite the continued tears. “Hunk you were so sick! You had this… alien thing that made vines grow inside you and it got really bad… But then Coran figured out a way to fix you! But… he said that it would release some kind of… like… neurotoxin thing that would mess with your memory.”

Vaguely, he remembered something about being sick. He could remember Pidge being upset… and Shiro apologizing for Keith’s absence. He remembered… coughing… and there was an argument, or something? He frowned, everything was just so hazy. “That sounds bad…”

“We almost lost you,” Keith said, voice quiet as he took a seat on the edge of Hunk’s mattress next to Pidge, who’d finally stopped hopping up to pace. “The surgery was a real ‘in the nick of time’ thing.”

“Coran saved my life? Really? Wow! Where is he? I should thank him!”

Something dark washed over Shiro’s features and his voice was odd when he spoke. “Coran and Allura are on the bridge. I’m sure they will check in on you soon enough.”

“Everyone has been so worried,” Pidge assured him.

“But, I’m okay now, right?”

“The surgery was a success.” Man, Shiro really did have a _kind_ smile sometimes. “But you’ve been sick for a long time, Hunk. Your body’s been through a lot. Even with the pods… you should rest and take some time to recover. We’re going to keep an eye on you for a bit, but you should be fine. You’re going to be okay.”

“Well, that’s a relief!” He finished off the last of the broth, just holding the warm, empty mug in his hands to soak up the last of the lingering heat. “Sorry for causing such a fuss, you guys…”

“Don’t you dare apologize for being sick,” Lance said firmly, “that was _not_ your fault and you have nothing to be sorry for. Nothing. Got it?”

Pidge snorted, “man, who knew that Lance was so protective?”

“Hey! Hunk’s family! I’ve very protective of my family! Always have been! Right Hunk?”

He blinked… it felt like he should know that. It felt like… _(the scent of Moso‘oi flowers)_... there was something… _(the sound of crying)_ just out of… _(Lance, spine stiff in outrage, pushing ahead of him)_... he couldn’t quite… _(“Hey asshat! What did you say about my sister?!?”... “Lance Aliet McClain! I can handle myself!”)_... Veronica! That was Lance’s older sister! “Yeah… protective… definitely…” Hunk nodded. The memories of Veronica from the Garrison were pretty sharp, and none of them seemed to fit with that flash of… whatever that was. The voice was… It was frustrating. Like trying to remember a dream- a snippet of memory that felt important but vanished whenever he tried to focus on it.

“Hunk? You okay?” Keith was gently tugging the mug out of his hands, which was the only reason he realized the death grip he had on the alien ceramic.

“What? Oh! Yeah… sorry… yeah, I’m okay… there was just- I thought I remembered something, but I guess not. Weird.” Shaking his head he smiled, “Yeah, Lance always watched out for his sister back at the Garrison- not that Veronica needed it.”

Lance blinked at him, his smile odd, head cocked to one side. “Yeah. Veronica. See? I take family seriously.” His brows furrowed for a second, and it was strange. For the space of a heartbeat, it was like there was a second face, superimposed over Lance’s, but then he blinked and it was gone. All he saw was his friend, worry and curiosity in his gaze- like he was looking for some sign of lingering illness. “That’s why I’m your favorite McClain, right?”

“Absolutely! Veronica is a badass, but… honestly? I’m kinda scared of her!”

“Enough talking!” snapped Pidge, turning to face Shiro, “he’s done with the soup! Can I hug him **now**??”

Shiro nodded and Pidge practically launched herself at him. He wrapped his arms around her and she made a noise that he couldn’t quite identify- even money on whether it was a laugh or a sob.

That hug seemed to trigger something, because almost immediately, he was bowled over by Keith and Shiro. It was such a surprise that he didn’t even really register Lance pulling out a datapad filled with notes and scrolling back through them like he was looking for something.

* * *

How he managed to acquire so many new things over the course of a semester, he would never know. He had a very limited budget, and even more limited options for spending his pocket money. Somehow, whenever the end of the year rolled around, he couldn’t quite manage to fit all of his stuff in his luggage- even though it was the same luggage that had carried it all from Cuba in the first place.

“You sit on it and I’ll zip it up,” offered Lance. “Orrr… we can go beg Veronica to put some of our shit in her bag! She is some kind of a magician who always has extra room in her bags.”

“I don’t think we need to bother Veron-annnnd he’s already out the door.” Sighing, Hunk reluctantly followed his best friend down the hallway.

“No!” Veronica said preemptively the second the door to her dorm room opened to reveal Lance. “You aren’t putting your stinky, crusty socks in my suitcase!”

“Rude!” Lance countered, “and besides, you owe me!”

She glared, arms crossed over her chest, as he preened at her like a flirty cartoon. After a moment she sighed, “fine. I’ll bite. Why do I owe you, exactly?”

“I went on that awful double date with you that landed you a girlfriend, and outed me to the whole damn school.”

She snorted, “Lance- literally no one on campus thought you were straight. You spray painted your backpack in the bi pride flag colors!”

“Hey! That’s subtle! Most people have no idea what the bi flag even looks like!”

“Uh-huh… and then there is your very vocal obsession with-”

 **”Nope!”** He interrupted, “I’m not getting sucked into this again! You owe me! I’m the only person in the whole family who dates guys and without me your sneaky ass ‘stealth’ double dates won’t work.”

“Hunk? How much of a bee does he have in his bonnet about this?”

“Tell you what- if you pack my sweaters in your bag, I’ll pack all of Lance’s extra shit.”

“Hey! There are no bees! None! No bees!” Lance acted indignant, but he was grinning triumphantly and flashed Hunk a thumbs up behind his back where Veronica couldn’t see.

“Oh my God, you freaking drama llama! Fine!” Rolling her eyes, Veronica shoved her brother. “Hunk, you have 20 minutes to bring me the sweaters or whatever. More than that and my stuff will already be loaded onto the shuttle!”

“Awesome!” Lance pulled her into a ridiculously over-the-top hug, wrenching her back and forth and then kissing her cheek with a loud smack. “Thanks, Nonica! Love you!”

Hunk followed suit, although his hug and cheek kiss were much more subdued and normal. “Thanks… I’ll be right back with them.”

She smiled fondly, “I’m doing this for you, you know. You’re the one who’d have to deal with his bitching and moaning.”

“I know- that’s why I’m thanking you.” He turned around to discover that Lance was already racing back to their room. “You rock, Ron-Ron!”

“Don’t call me that!” she yelled after them.

* * *

Eventually, Shiro shooed everyone out of his room so he could rest. Then Coran and Allura came by to visit for a bit. Allura was oddly quiet. Even Coran was subdued… well, _for Coran_.

“What’s up? Did the surgery not go well or something?” he asked, eventually. It was unnerving to see them so quiet and he’d never been someone who could relax when he thought there was a problem.

“Oh no, Number Two,” Coran assured him, patting his hand, “it was a difficult surgery due to how advanced your condition was, but it went splendidly! Splendidly!”

“I’m sure you’ve noticed by now that you have…. Significant gaps in your memory,” Allura said softly, “and there is a good reason for that. I’d like to explain, if you feel up to it?”

“Yeah, Lance said that there was some kind of neurotoxin?” Hunk shifted in the bed, “I don’t think it is nearly as bad as people were expecting though. I remember pretty much everything, I think. Like, I remember everything about Voltron, and I remember my classes at the Galaxy Garrison… it’s mostly just… before that, I guess? Although, I suppose, I might not even know there were holes in my memory until I needed the information and it wasn’t there?”

“You remember Lance?” Allura asked, surprised. “From before the surgery? You have actual memories of Lance? Specific ones?”

“Yeah! Like… when we were on Mer he talked about how he had always wanted to meet a mermaid! And, oh! He saved Coran from the explosion that time! And just like everyone else, he didn’t listen to me when I said we shouldn’t trust Rolo and Nyma!”

“Coran! You are _absolutely certain_ that the removal was complete?”

“One hundred percent, Princess,” Coran blustered, “all post op scans confirmed it, and if we’d missed even a tiny amount, the cryopods would have alerted us! There’s only one explanation!”

“It wasn’t Lance,” she breathed, “oh, what a relief!”

“What wasn’t Lance?” he asked, confused.

“Dear boy,” Coran said softly, “you were sick when you joined us. Your illness dates back to your time on Earth.”

“But- Lance said…”

“Lance doesn’t know,” Allura cut in. “Coran, could you ensure that we have some privacy while I explain to Hunk?”

“Of course,” he rose, bending over to hug Hunk tightly, “it is so good to see you feeling better.”

“Yeah… thanks.” He probably should have mustered more enthusiasm, but he was too distracted by questions. Allura watched until the door slid closed behind Coran and then took a breath, gathering herself.

“I will explain, but first there is something I need to address.”

Oh, it was never good when Allura got all formal like that! “Yeah, sure. I’m not going anywhere.”

“You were most adamant that Lance not know the truth of your diagnosis, and that you did not want the surgery.”

“The surgery… that saved my life!? I didn’t want you to save my life? That doesn’t make any sense! I don’t want to die!!”

“There was… a conflict. Shiro is very displeased with us! You have to understand, Hunk. We meant no trespass. In Altea… refusing consent to procedures that save a patient from an _imminent threat to life_ isn’t… a thing. Once it reaches a point that doing nothing would result in certain, immediate loss of life, we are obligated to provide all available care. So, that is what we did. Now though, we know that… you had a very different expectation, and I want to offer our sincere apologies for the miscommunication.”

“Allura,” he said, catching her hand and meeting her eyes, “you saved my life. That’s all I care about now. Thank-you!”

She smiled, but she didn’t look as relieved as he expected. “I appreciate that, Hunk. Truly.” She squeezed his hand and he thought he saw tears shimmer in her eyes. “You were suffering from something we called… well, it translates to umm… roughly… choking love, or emotions that choke you. It was very rare on Altea. It seems it is somewhat more common on Earth, and you called it Hanahaki.”

“Hanahaki? I had the heartbreak disease?” He let that sink in. It seemed so strange to think that he’d been in love with anyone! But then… that’s what the surgery did, right? It erased all memory of- wait! “You guys thought I was in love with **Lance**!?!? Lance McClain???”

“It seemed obvious! You two are so very close! And you were so, so, so insistent that he not know, and that your getting the surgery would hurt him somehow! It was the only thing that made sense. You’ve got an unusual bond- you call it Musketeers, whatever that means!”

“Musketeers? But that doesn’t even make sense- the Musketeers aren’t a duo. There are _three_ Musketeers!”

She shrugged helplessly, “I’m sorry. I don’t have the answers for you. All I know is the little bits you and he have mentioned in passing. You grew up together, shared a room at the Garrison, called yourselves the Musketeers.”

“We… grew up together?” She had no reason to lie… but he had no recollection of that. No real memories of Lance outside of their time at school and in Voltron, now that he thought about it. He could remember sitting beside him on the plane as they traveled back and forth- but not seeing him while they were in Cuba. “He’s my best friend… I know everything about him, right?”

“I always thought so.” Allura sighed, “I wish I could give you more information… but I can’t. All I can tell you is that you were very concerned that he not know that you had contracted hanahaki, and that you thought the cost of the surgery was so high that you refused to have it even when it was needed to save your life. Beyond that? I’m afraid you may be without answers until you return to Earth- unless you decide to talk to Lance about it.”

“This is… a lot,” he breathed, “I must have had my reasons. Maybe I should just trust the decisions I made when I had all the information?”

“Well, speaking for myself, trusting you and your choices has always been a wise move.” Her smile was sad, but when she stood and pressed a kiss to his forehead, it warmed up. “I will let you rest now, but please know that I have total faith in you, Hunk… and I am very glad that you are still with us.”

“Thank-you, Princess. I am, too.”

She dimmed the light when she left, clearly expecting him to nap, but his mind was racing. Knowing he had holes in his memory was unsettling. The knowledge that they used to contain a person he was _in love_ with was even moreso! He’d never been someone who could walk away from a puzzle, and whether she intended to or not, that was what Allura had handed him.

After who knew how long of lying in his bed and staring at the ceiling, he’d figured out a few things about whoever it was. First of all- they were from Cuba, because all of the holes in his memories seemed to be when he was there. Second of all- they were very close to Lance. Close enough that a shocking amount of information _about_ Lance had vanished along with those other memories. He couldn’t remember how they’d met, when his birthday was, what he’d been like as a kid (although he could remember conversations with Lance about what he’d been like as a kid, which was disconcerting), if they’d ever fought… all blanks.

He was still trying to sort through memories when there was a soft knock on his door. Lance. He knew that knock. “Come on in, bud. I’m awake.”

Lance was quiet for a full minute once he shut the door behind him. He looked like he was choosing his words, though, so Hunk just waited. He wasn’t expecting Lance to try to start a conversation with gibberish though. He could pick out a word that sounded a little like ‘understand’ in Samoan, and something that might have been ‘special’ in Spanish- but frankly, even that much was grasping at straws. “What?”

“Nothing,” Lance smiled, and Hunk pretended not to notice that it didn’t reach his eyes, “it’s not important. Shove over.”

He did and Lance climbed into the bed with him just like he did for movie nights. “You okay, Lance?”

“Me? You’re the one that almost died, Hunk! You’re alive and that’s all that matters, okay?” This time the smile did reach his eyes, even though his eyes were sad, “everything else, we can deal with. I’m just so glad I didn’t lose you.” He took a deep breath and pulled a stack of envelopes out of the bundle of… stuff… he’d brought in with him. “I went to your room. I figured out that you knew you were sick before anybody told me anything… I figured out a lot of things... and I know you, so… those are all the letters you wrote. I didn’t read any of them, but I figured you should… and then you can decide if you still want to hand them out.”

“Wow- okay.” Guaranteed, those letters would have the answers to at least some of his questions! They were his own thoughts, explaining why he’d made the choices he had. A peek into parts of him that he no longer could access. Being careful not to snatch the precious things, he took the bundle and started flipping through the letters- Shiro, Pidge, Allura, Lance- “you didn’t read the one for you?”

“Nope. Those are ‘when I’m gone’ letters and you aren’t gone. I’m not in any rush to read that!” Snuggling into his side, Lance unfolded the blanket, spreading it out over the two of them and revealing the collection of things he’d brought in with him. A necklace, his coat, a keychain with keys, his phone.

“Are you _sure_ you are alright? You’re acting… kind of weird.”

“I’m fine. Promise... but… I have a theory, so humor me, okay?”

“Yeah, of course. You’re my best friend- whatever you need, Lance!” It was really hard not to worry. The way he was acting was… not right… not _Lance_.

“Do you recognize any of this stuff?”

“Uh… the jacket. I know what the other stuff is but not anything specific about them.”

“Alright- they didn’t jog your memory, so they can go.” He moved the detritus to the chair beside the bed.

“This is very strange, but so is everything in our lives right now. You might as well continue.”

Lance shrugged, the motion impeded by how close they were at the moment. “How did I break my foot?”

“You uh…” He thought about it, strangely fractured memories coming back. They'd been kids, so that was new and good! He could remember the cast… remember Lance’s thumbs up at the hospital, and the days of being stuck to him like glue before they went back to school- but the details kept floating away. “You… _fell_ I think? I remember hearing your parents talking to my parents about it.

“Okay, cool.” His eyes brightened, “and Miguel Owens’ Halloween sleepover party- what were our costumes?”

“Ummm… Oh! You were a shark and I was… a surfboard with a bite taken out of it!” That one was easy! Now that Lance had mentioned it, he could remember getting to the party, setting up their sleeping bags, and pretty much every detail of the night right up until… umm… they’d had to go home early… but he couldn’t remember why.

“Awesome! Now,” he took one of Hunk’s hands, tracing his fingers over tiny, raised lines in his skin, “how did you get these?”

Scars. His hands were covered in fine, old, scars. That’s the kind of thing you remembered getting… but Hunk couldn’t. He knew they were from jellyfish. He could remember his mother scolding him about not being diligent enough with taking care of them while they healed. So, obviously, it wasn’t something that happened when he was too young to remember. “I… um… I don’t know. Lance! I don’t know!”

Lance’s face shattered and crumpled in on itself. He knew that face. He’d seen it before. Lance looked… heartbroken.

“I’m sorry! I’ll try harder!” It was hard not to panic, but he needed to stay calm and focused. He stared at his hands. What did he remember? “Jellyfish- but they were supposed to be gone… the tides, and the moon… but… they weren’t and… you were… there, but not? I’m sorry… it’s all broken up. I only get snippets.”

“It’s okay, Hunk. We both know that your memory… um … We both know the surgery does this… I’m just happy for the stuff you do remember, okay?” He waited until Hunk nodded and then picked up his phone. “Right- so you are in luck, because we have known each other since we were four and I know absolutely everything about you. That means I can help you fill in the blanks! And I am pretty sure I’ve figured out the common thread in those gaps of yours. So, check this out. It is a picture of my family. You took it. That’s my mom, and my dad. That’s my brother Luis, his wife Lisa, and their kids, Nadia and Sylvio. My other brother Marco, me, of course, and my sisters Veronica and Rachel.”

He didn’t notice at first. He glanced at the picture and recognized it as Lance’s family. The faces were familiar and the group of them made something wistful and melancholy twang in his heart. These people felt like home somehow. That feeling was so strong that it wasn’t until Lance said ‘sisters’ that he even realized that there were _ten_ people in the picture- not nine! His eyes had been skimming over one of the girls without him even being aware of it.

Rachel.

Rachel.

Rachel McClain.

 _Why_ couldn’t he rememb- _ohhhh_! “Lance… I…”

“Ah-bip-bip-bip! Remember I said I figured a bunch of stuff out?” Lance patted his leg softly, his voice cracking with emotion, but firm. Resolute. Confident. “It’s okay. We’re okay, Hunk. Really. I’ll be okay. I just need to… not remind you… more like _teach_ you. Yeah! Teach you! You can’t remember- but see I figured something out, a loophole, kinda- you can **learn**.”

“You’re confusing me,” he whispered.

“You didn’t want me to know. You thought it would hurt me too much. But, I’m not a little kid anymore. I’m stronger than that, and we’re stronger together. All for one…” He gazed at Hunk, biting his lip, obviously waiting for a response.

“And one for all,” he answered, because he knew that was what Lance needed to hear.

“Exactly! So, I know you were trying to protect me, and I love you for that. I really do. You are the best friend I could ask for… and I want to be that for you, and right now you are missing information that I have, so… I’m going to teach you.” Nodding sharply he continued, “Rachel Aliet McClain is my twin sister, that’s why we have the same middle name… and I know you don’t remember her right now, but she is your favorite McClain… So, by the time we get home, I’m going to make sure that you know her as well as I do. Got it?”

He’d had hanahaki because he’d fallen in love with Lance’s _twin_! No wonder he’d been so set on never telling him! “I’m not sure-”

“I said: Got it?”

“Got it,” he relaxed a little, starting to realize that Lance was telling the truth. He didn’t hate him for hiding his illness. He wasn’t outraged at the secrecy and lies. He wasn’t livid about Hunk falling for Rachel. Lance still had his back.

“Good. So… let’s start at the beginning! When you first met me and Rachel, we couldn’t understand each other. We spoke Spanish and Cubano, and you spoke Samoan and English- but we made it work. We invented a whole new language, just for us- which I will also be teaching you, but not right now- and right from that very first day, I knew you were going to be my best friend… and you are.”

“You’re my best friend, too, Lance.” Something tight and heavy let go in his chest. He’d read the letters later. He’d figure out the holes in his memory and start to fill them in with, if not _memories_ then, at least, _understanding_.

It was okay.

They were okay.

Hunk was okay.

Not great, but he was alive and he wasn’t sick anymore… and it was sad that he’d been so ill because he’d fallen in love with someone who didn’t or couldn’t love him back, but he’d heal. With Lance’s help, he’d heal and be able to move forward. Right now they were two friends in space, far from home. But they’d get back to Earth eventually, and when they did he knew things were going to be alright.

Because there were three Musketeers.

All for one...

And one for all.


End file.
